Memories of May
by Nytd
Summary: Adventure and romance on the high seas involving a doctor on the way to England that is kidnapped by Barbossa, and finds herself as a reluctant ship's surgeon to a crew of pirates. Pirates of May episode I.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: This story takes place several months before the fateful mutiny aboard the _Black Pearl_ and the cursing of Barbossa and the rest of his crew after stealing the Aztec gold. It follows along in the history I've been writing for Barbossa in _Naught But a Humble Pirate,_ but can be read as a stand alone story without having read the other.

I hope you have fun with this.

--

**Chapter One ~*~**

**--**

There are three things that I must say first, in order to begin the tale of my ordeal properly.

The first thing of some importance that I must tell you, lest you think me wicked, is that it is not my nature typically to be one to speak unkindly of other people. While admittedly I possess as much capacity as the next person for thinking hateful thoughts toward those individuals who may warrant it, I was blessed with the gift of being able to bite my tongue better than most by my dear mother.

The second thing that I must impart to the reader concerns the person of Cornelia Beckett, my traveling companion.

Cornelia was the sister-in-law of Cutler Beckett, with whom I assume the reader has some fair amount of familiarity. She had married his elder brother, Charles, one year before, and her presence on the voyage to England we were undertaking together was a treat from her very wealthy husband so that she might visit her mother, and spend time shopping in London for new furnishings for the Becketts' already most impressive home in Port Royal.

While I maintain vigorously that I kept my opinion to myself, there were those among the wealthier class of Jamaica that rumored Charles had sent his wife on the journey due to the fact that after only a year of marriage, he longed to be free of her presence for some months.

Although speculation among the same individuals established that it must be because Charles had married Cornelia for reasons of financial gain, and that he had taken a mistress, I knew my neighbors, the Becketts, better than that, and was sure the reason was not so complicated.

Of all the things Cornelia was –wealthy, educated, well-situated in society, as well as strikingly dark and beautiful, it was her most obvious straightforward flaw that was sure to be the reason for Charles to wish to send her away.

You see, Cornelia Beckett was a royal bitch.

Now you understand the reason for my first statement. While it would be quite beyond what would please my dear mother, God rest her, if I had ever uttered that statement aloud, I couldn't help that it was completely true.

Spoiled as a child, and spoiled still by her husband, Cornelia was also selfish, self-centered and extremely vain. Not that she didn't have reason to be –with a figure flattered by almost any style of dress, green eyes the colors of emeralds, and glossy dark hair that bordered on ebony and contrasted remarkably with her fine complexion, Cornelia was not the only one to be fascinated with her looks.

She drew second glances from men wherever she went, and she very well knew it.

I faulted her not for being blessed with such gifts, nor even her vain obsession with tending to every detail of her appearance, but my own biases toward Mrs. Beckett arose from her tendencies to be petulant and downright mean spirited, especially if she didn't get her way.

Flaunting her elevated status and enormous wealth to the rest of Jamaican High Society didn't bother me, but when she degraded and belittled her servants and the lower class of islanders that also lived in Port Royal, it really got under my skin.

The third topic I must discuss concerns my name and a very brief background about myself before I return to our voyage.

My name is Madeline Gray, and I am the third generation of a family of physicians. My grandfather was a doctor, as was my father. Of my two uncles, one would have also been a physician, but his love of lesser creatures led him to become a veterinary surgeon. The call of the noble medical arts was missed by my father's second brother, who was called instead by the sea, and led a life mostly abroad as a merchant sailor.

It was actually my uncle who had suggested that I look to establish a medical practice where it was desperately needed in the growing colony of Jamaica, and so, to make a long story shorter, I ended up here.

You are probably already considering the fact that given the knowledge of my chosen profession, it was something of a novelty to have a woman as a practicing physician, whether it was at home in England, or here in my newer home of Port Royal. This, as you may well surmise, caused me some degree of difficulty for at least the first half of my career, but I needn't go into that now.

What you need know is that there were three of us returning to England on the ship that day.

I had decided to give up my unsuccessful attempt at practicing medicine in Jamaica and was returning to my father's home. (Perhaps I shall explain more later.)

Cornelia, as you already know, was heading for her shopping spree, and although she still considered me somewhat beneath her station, she deemed it acceptable to associate with me as I was an educated woman and somewhat of a curiosity to her.

The third woman on board that day with us was Lydia Thomas, a woman some years younger than myself, newly a mother, and newly widowed. She too, was leaving an unsuccessful attempt at living in the Caribbean, and was returning home with her three-month-old daughter.

The ship was called the _Essex_, and I would love to say that I knew then what I know now –that she was a ship of some notable tonnage, square-rigged at her fore and mainmast, and rigged fore-and-aft on the mizzen, but it would be a lie to say I even knew what the mizzenmast was that day. My strengths lay in knowing the anatomy of the human form, and not in knowing the anatomy of sailing vessels.

Her captain was an old salt named Silas Flint, and he had crossed the Atlantic more times than he could remember. It was a comfort to the three of us, especially Lydia, to have such a courteous and experienced sea captain as the leader of our ocean-bound journey.

While space is severely limited, even on a ship the size of the _Essex_, he had managed to secure our belongings and our persons in a small secondary cabin that would give us at least a sense of privacy.

Lydia, for the three days we had shared the cabin to that point, was soft-spoken but pleasant, and spent most of her time attending her infant daughter's needs.

Cornelia, on the other hand, was an endless fountain of complaints about the cramped arrangements, the lack of her own space, and about the food, which, from what I can tell you now, was considerably better than what most of the crew got.

As for myself, I tried not to think about the fact that I was a little seasick most of the time, and to ignore Cornelia as best I could. I spent whatever time I could manage reading and avoiding getting caught up listening to one of her petulant tirades about the captain not taking into consideration _just exactly who she was_.

I would have liked to have pointed out to her that more space was not about to manifest itself out of thin air, regardless if she were Cornelia Beckett or the queen of England.

Late in the afternoon on our third day at sea, I managed to convince Lydia that some fresh air would do both her and her daughter some good, and had her accompany me to the deck. While I was every bit convinced that my advice was true, I also took her topside with me to try and dilute some of the negativity that followed Cornelia around like a swarm of angry bees buzzing about the rose bushes.

Lydia, the baby and I had just made it up in time to witness the beginnings of a fine sunset, when Cornelia discovered our whereabouts and bore down on me with that self-righteous look that was becoming a nearly constant feature of her person.

"Ah, _there you are_, Madeline," she said, obvious irritation in her manner. She hardly ever addressed Lydia, who was beneath her station and a necessary evil in her mind. I daresay that Lydia and I both felt she was the luckier of the two of us.

"I have just had the most exhausting conversation with that man, about our unacceptable situation, _again_." She rolled her eyes and very nearly stomped her foot in frustration. I knew 'that man' meant Captain Flint, and I felt sorry for him.

"Cornelia, it really isn't all that bad..." I began, but she cut me off with an impatient wave of her hand.

"Oh, Madeline," she began, her attitude if not her person looking down her nose at me. "You wouldn't understand. You're used to not having a lot of space to yourself," she said.

While it was true that my small house attached to the clinic was far from the ostentatious villa that the Becketts owned, it had more than enough space, and it certainly had more space than the cabin we shared.

"It's only temporary," I reminded her, not buying into her pessimism.

"Why Charles didn't make better arrangements is beyond me," she snipped. "Although, I am quite sure he would have insisted on a private cabin. It must have been a mistake by the crew."

I reached over to coo at the baby, who had woken up at the sound of voices, and managed to roll my eyes at Lydia before turning back to where Cornelia was still in a huff. This was the third day of her attempt to change her lodging arrangements, and thankfully it appeared that she was finally getting the message. She fumed for another moment or two and then dropped the subject.

I rather wish she hadn't.

"So, Madeline," she began, falling into that syrupy manner that she thought people found endearing, "now that you're done playing at being a doctor, do you think you might just think about being more realistic and getting married?"

I had been down this road with her before, and kept my temper in check. "I hadn't really given marriage much thought at this point, Cornelia," I stated matter-of-factly. "I don't even know anyone that I would even think of..."

She cut me off with another dismissive wave. "Oh, pooh, Madeline," she laughed. "Even you can find someone, I'm sure."

I wanted kick her in the shin. Knowing the way Cornelia's mind worked as well as I did after knowing her for two years, I knew that she had just implied that I was somehow inferior and would have to settle for some less than ideal man.

While I certainly didn't have her breeding or her money, I came from a respectable family and managed to take care of myself on my physician's salary, even if my practice had been less than blooming. While I might not have been blessed with the stunning looks that statuesque Mrs. Beckett possessed, and tended as a result of my profession to be a bit bookish, I knew my lighter features were fair enough that no one had ever implied I was hard to look at.

I contented myself with the fact that I was probably smarter than Cornelia, and a good deal nicer, and gave a light little laugh at the comment that she had deemed witty.

I thought then and there that it was going to be a very long trip.

After dinner, which by the way, was completely unsuitable to Cornelia, I managed to escape from listening to her litany about the _proper_ way to prepare game hens, and headed once again to the deck with the excuse that I was feeling a bit seasick and needed some fresher air. It wasn't a complete fabrication.

The evening was mild since we were still in the Caribbean after only three days into our trip, but I needed to keep my shawl close about me as the air was decidedly cool on the deck of a sailing ship.

Any of the crew I encountered would offer a polite nod or greeting, and I think most of them were sympathetic to the fact that I was coming on deck so often because I would otherwise be stuck below listening to Cornelia complain about them.

I was feeling relieved that I had managed to dodge Mrs. Beckett for a while, and was lulled by the sound of the waves washing past the ship. I became absorbed in the amazing stellar display that had manifested itself in a remarkably clear, but dark, moonless sky that night, and was lost in my musings about the constellation overhead, when the men's voices from the port side of the ship rose suddenly in both volume and urgency.

The next thing I knew, men were shouting all over the deck, and it became clear that urgent was not the word to use to describe the way they were shouting.

_Panicked_ would probably be the more appropriate.

Of course, my instantaneous reaction was that there was something wrong with the ship, and that the men thought we were in danger of sinking. For someone whose only other experience with a ship had been the voyage from England to Jamaica, you can readily understand why this was the first thought that rose with my own wave of panic.

When Captain Flint appeared next to me, grabbing my arm and shouting at me fiercely to get to my cabin, I'd realized that I'd been mistaken about the ship sinking, and that the reality of what was really happening was quite possibly even worse.

It only took the one word I heard shouted across the deck to make me hike up my skirts and run for the stairs, and that single terror-filled word had been _pirates!_

The first canon blast I had ever heard suddenly ripped through the darkness, making me nearly burst into tears as I reached the stairs, it was so close. I nearly fell in my eagerness to get off the deck, for although we were not struck by the cannon fire, (I know now that it was a warning fired across our bow) the muzzle flash that preceded the sound had lighted the source of the attack just long enough for me to take the nightmare image below decks with me.

It was a black shadow of a ship, emerging from the darkness to our port side, and she'd been close enough for me to hear the fierce screams and wicked cries of men that I couldn't see all along her deck.

I rushed to our cabin, and collided with Cornelia, who looked wide-eyed and terrified, reflecting, I am sure, the expression on my own face.

"What's happening?" she cried, even as I grabbed her arm and dragged her back through the door and slammed it shut. Lydia was sitting on her cot, crying and rocking her baby who had started screaming when the cannon was fired.

I was still processing the terrible image of the black ship that had been bearing down on top of us, when Cornelia grabbed my elbow and repeated her question.

"Pirates," I said in a voice that was too strangled and choked to possibly be my own.

Lydia let out a wail and clutched her baby closer as she rocked. Cornelia looked like she was alternating between being frightened half to death, and completely incensed that someone had the nerve to interrupt her trip.

I am quite sure that my own expression had settled firmly into the realm of frightened half to death.

While I witnessed none of what was taking place over our heads, some of the events I was able to surmise, and some I would learn about later.

We could hear little from above except lots of muffled shouting for several very long minutes. It was after that the gunshots rang out - a volley, I learned, from our defending crew as the black ship drew alongside and pirates actually began boarding the _Essex_.

What I also learned later was that although our crew was trying valiantly to defend the cargo and the passengers, the buccaneer crew was a group of organized, seasoned rogues that knew their business.

While the deck of the _Essex_ was being overrun with pirates and the sailors trying to defend her, a small group of cutthroats had been given very specific instructions to avoid engagement topside, and to quickly retrieve any passengers such as ourselves that might be aboard.

The screams that the three of us let out when the door was kicked in filled the cabin, but only for a moment before the wicked blades the pirates held before them silenced us with even greater fear.

I remember being half-dragged back up the stairs behind my two companions, and how Lydia managed to hold onto her daughter as they shoved her viciously out onto the deck, I will never know.

The intent was that bringing the passengers out on deck would get the attention of the captain and her crew, effectively inducing them to surrender lest we be harmed, but the combat that now raged across the deck hand to hand and blade to blade was too far out of control for any of the participants to pay much attention to us three women.

While I must tell the story as it happened, I realize that time has dulled the terror I remember from that night, and my narrative may not do it justice. Let me just say that I do not remember any night more terrifying in all my years.

Cornelia, to her credit, had stuck close to Lydia on the opposite side from where I also tried to do my best to lend what meager moral support I could. As the nightmare played out around us, those next few seconds felt like an eternity.

The first moment I ever saw Captain Barbossa is seared into my memory with such intensity, that if I live to be one hundred years old, the vision I maintain will still feel as real as if it had happened only the day before.

Many of the specifics of his appearance I could not tell you at that moment, for although the ship was lit by lanterns and by starlight that shown on the combatants on the deck, it was not bright enough to allow me to see much detail.

We were essentially tethered alongside the pirate vessel that had ambushed us on that moonless night, and like the black ship, her captain stepped out of the darkness that surrounded us and onto the deck.

Tall and wearing a broad plumed hat that kept his face in shadow, the man gave not a second thought to the noise and the fighting going on around him a few feet away, and stepped down onto the _Essex _as if he owned her. He strode swiftly across the deck in a manner so self-assured it might have actually been a bit of a swagger.

The pirate captain quickly crossed to where our group of captors had us off to one side of the fighting, ignoring them as much as he ignored the clash of steel on steel next to him, and did the most horrid thing I could imagine.

His movements were so sudden, that in the poor lighting it was Lydia's hysterical scream that told me what he had done more than anything. Quick as a snake, in two moves he had yanked the baby from Lydia's arms with one hand and then drawn the pistol he carried at his hip with the other.

It took the men who held Lydia and myself, and even Cornelia, all they could do to hold us back when the hammer on the gun cocked, but hold us back they did. The terror that gripped my heart at that second was unbearable, and I can only imagine what Lydia was going through as she screamed hysterically.

I jerked involuntarily, even though I knew the shot was coming, and I can still almost feel the tears that were pouring down my face, and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think of that sound. Lydia would have collapsed at that second if it weren't for the two men that held her so cruelly.

What followed was complete silence for a couple of heartbeats, as the entire company had instantly stopped what they were doing and whipped about in the direction of the gunshot.

The next second a baby cried, and jerking my head up from where I stood sobbing, I realized what Barbossa had done. The pistol had been fired in the air, instantly grabbing the attention of sailors and pirates alike across the ship.

What held their attention, however, was the fact that Barbossa, face still in the shadow of the hat set at a slightly jaunty angle on his head, now stood holding the child dangling from one hand out over the railing of the ship.

He waited a few beats more to ensure that he would have everyone's complete undivided attention.

There was no doubt whatsoever that he had it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two ~*~**

**--**

Captain Barbossa, still holding the infant suspended over the railing of the _Essex_, let his gaze wander across the length of the ship to make sure that his threat had not gone unnoticed by any soul on board that night. The complete silence, other than the unhappy babe wailing, was punctuated by the clanking sounds of surrendered weapons being dropped to the deck.

When the sound of swords and knives raining down on the deck ceased, Barbossa sauntered a couple of steps closer to where we stood in a patch of brighter light thrown by a lantern, and did, in my mind, the most unimaginable thing.

He laughed.

It was a brief but wicked chortle that belied how pleased he was with the situation, and himself.

"Now," he finally spoke, addressing the full company in a voice that carried easily through the still night to all ears. "I see I have managed to attract yer full attention..." He paused again, and through my horror, I realized it was for dramatic effect.

"Where be the captain of this fine ship?" he called out in a jaunty manner, looking expectantly across the sea of faces that were focused on him.

To his endless credit, Captain Flint strode forward immediately to claim responsibility for the vessel.

Barbossa sized him up for a moment before addressing him. "What might yer name be, Captain?" he asked, as if they were just being introduced at a party.

The good captain met Barbossa's gaze and spoke. "Silas Flint," he answered solemnly. "What is it you want with my ship?" he demanded.

Although I think everyone present, including myself, already had a pretty fair idea of what it was Barbossa wanted, I would learn in the next few moments that I was unprepared for what lengths the brigand would go to for financial gain.

"Your ship?" Barbossa asked, with another low chuckle. He paused and glanced at the baby in his grip, still hanging in space over the sea below.

When he turned back, all pretense of amusement ceased, and he spoke in a dangerous, low voice that was heard by only the captain and those of us standing in the immediate area. "I believe, Captain Flint, that ye realize this ship is not under yer command at the moment?"

Flint nodded, looking grave.

"Good," Barbossa said. "Now, as fer what I want? Why, I want complete cooperation," he said, fairly snarling the word 'complete.'

Flint nodded again. "You'll have it," he said, sounding genuinely like he meant it.

I have already told you what a blessing it was to have such an experienced captain for our voyage, and I am convinced that a younger, more foolish man might have tried to resist, and not made the same decision.

Barbossa spelled out the terms, indicating that there was to be no resistance from the crew of the _Essex,_ that they were to quickly point out where the most desirable cargo was held, and help bring it on deck. In exchange, he would return the infant to her mother, let the entire crew go unharmed, and leave the _Essex _otherwise unmolested.

By this point, the pirate crew had confiscated all the surrendered weapons anyway, so it wasn't as if Captain Flint had much of a choice to make.

Flint gave the orders that set the process in motion, and turned to escort some of the men below to indicate the loot that the pirates would most likely find to be of value.

I became aware that Cornelia was fairly seething where she stood on the other side of poor Lydia, who had fallen to her knees, sobbing quite uncontrollably. I rarely have felt such pity for anyone as I did that night for Lydia.

After losing her husband and recently becoming a single mother, Lydia had found herself in a great deal of financial hardship, and had just barely enough resources to book passage for herself and her child to return to England. Faced with the threat of losing her baby as well, the woman had come undone.

It was my concern for Lydia that suddenly caused me to notice how quiet things wereonce the crew was engaged elsewhere, and that the most alarming aspect of the quiet was the fact that the baby had stopped crying.

My gaze flashed to where Barbossa still stood leaning on the rail, surveying the activity on the ship with the baby hanging in the wind. You must understand that although the very thought of attracting the attention of this man to myself was the very last thing I desired to do, the physician in me spoke from the back of my mind and prodded me to act. For at that moment, I realized the tiny baby was growing cold from exposure to the night wind, and I found myself speaking in a small voice that sounded nothing like my own at all.

"Sir?" I simply said, deciding that courtesy could only be on my side in that horrible moment.

A moment passed, and although I first thought he might not have heard the croak that I had issued, slowly his head turned and his gaze traveled across the three of us to see which of the women had spoken.

I wanted to shrink back behind the others when his eyes finally came to rest upon me, as he decided that I was the most likely source of the squeak he had heard. In the lantern light that shown on our corner of the deck, I could see that his stare was steely both in nature and in color, and I found myself at a loss for words as my own gaze traveled across the livid scar that ran vertically down the length of his right cheek.

Another moment passed and the corner of his mouth twitched into what might have been a faint smile.

"You spoke?" he asked, sounding somewhat amused.

I realized at that moment I was standing there gaping at him like a terrified fish, and clamped my mouth shut in an effort to marshal even the slightest ghost of composure. I nodded.

He quirked an eyebrow up, still amused. "Is there somethin' you want?"

I nodded again, dumbly, and then realizing that I looked like a complete idiot and not at all like a well –educated woman of science and learning, uttered the insightful and brilliant response 'yes'.

Barbossa took a step closer, and I involuntarily took one back.

"Care to be a little more specific, Miss…?" He paused, obviously wanting the answer to two questions – my name and my own request.

"Gray," I answered, fishing for the right way to ask him to hand over the child.

"Ah," he said, leaning against the railing again. "And what exactly is it that you want, Miss Gray?"

"The baby," I said, indicating the still infant.

He glanced at the child and then back at me expectantly, obviously wanting more of an explanation.

"She's getting cold," I answered. "You have the cooperation of the crew already. You don't need her anymore."

He appeared to consider my point for a moment, and then straightened off the railing he'd been leaning on. "By the Powers, yer right, Miss Gray," he said brightly. "I did agree that she should return to her mother."

At that point he carefully pulled the infant back onto the right side of the railing and handed her over to where I managed a step or two forward to reach for her. Concerned for the baby, I assess her quickly and determined that she just needed to be warmed up, and I pulled the shawl from my own shoulders to bundle her in before handing her over to her hysterical mother.

I hadn't paid attention to the fact that Barbossa, somewhat intrigued at the motions I had gone through to evaluate the child, had been watching what I did with mild interest.

"She'll be fine, Lydia," I said, trying to reassure the young mother. I was startled when the pirate addressed me again.

"She's unharmed?" he asked casually.

"Thankfully," I returned, a little more sharply than I meant to.

He nodded and looked thoughtful again for a moment as he walked slowly past me, inspecting the three of us as he did. When he got to Cornelia he turned back to face us all, and then as casually as you please, plunked one heavily booted foot up on a nearby barrel.

Leaning forward with his arms resting on his knee, he addressed us in a mannerly way, evidently unconcerned about what was happening in the holds, and looking to kill time while he waited.

"You ladies are travellin' to England, are ye?" he asked, obviously expecting us to answer, as if discussing our travel plans with a pirate was the most natural thing in the world.

Lydia was still frantically hovered over her baby, trying to warm the little girl up, and Cornelia just glared back at the man. I fear it was left up to me to at least maintain some semblance of courtesy. I thought it unwise at that point to be rude.

"Yes," I answered shakily. "We…we're three days out of Port Royal."

"You live in Port Royal?" he asked, addressing me as the only one willing to answer him, but gesturing to mean he was inquiring about all three of us.

I kept the answer simple. "Yes," I said, not really feeling like I wanted to explain the reasons we all had for being on the _Essex _that fateful night.

"Why were you on the way to England?" he asked casually, after glancing over to see how the unloading process was progressing.

"We were all going to visit family." I couldn't help thinking how surreal the moment was –speaking to the rogue as if I'd just met him for tea.

At that moment a pirate with a black bandanna bound around his head stepped near the captain, and a hushed exchange between the two took place briefly. I had the opportunity to look around and realized that things appeared as if they would be finished shortly.

I also had the opportunity to get a better look at Barbossa as he stood there - foot still propped on the barrel and eyes narrowed as he listened intently to what the other pirate whispered.

In addition to the great plumed hat that perched on his head, the rest of his attire gave the impression that it was expensive and well made, although perhaps a little weathered from wear. Silver buttons adorned his frockcoat, and under it I could see he carried the pistol stuck under a sash at his waist. The handle of a dagger was on his right hip, adorned with mother of pearl, and an ornate sword hung at his left, suspended from the baldric crossing his chest.

I was trying to figure out what the item was that hung from his earlobe without staring, when a shriek next to me startled me out of my observations and I jumped.

Cornelia, who up until that point had been seething silently at the fact that the brigands had the audacity to attack the ship she was traveling on, was still smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

That was until she saw her one of her own chests being transferred across to the pirate ship. Indeed, both of her chests, and the large leather satchel of medical paraphernalia I carried with me were some of the last items being stolen.

Shaking off the pirate that had been lax in maintaining a grip on his captive, Cornelia had stepped forward and called across the deck in outrage. "That's mine!" she cried. "You put that back right now!"

Barbossa and the pirate with the black bandanna looked at Cornelia and then back at each other, apparently of the opinion that she was clearly out of her mind. The captain shot me a questioning glance, as if somehow I could provide an explanation for why my traveling companion appeared to have a death wish. I merely shrugged meekly and took a prudent step backwards, and Barbossa, after standing up straight again and taking his foot off the barrel, focused his attention on Cornelia.

"Be there a problem?" he asked her.

She evidently missed the dangerous tone he used, or had actually developed an acute case of Death Wish Disorder, and ranted at him as she pointed in the direction of her things. "This is completely unacceptable," she shrieked at him. "I demand that you have those returned at once."

Barbossa, to give him the tiniest bit of credit, did not shoot her then and there on the spot, but appeared to contemplate what she had said for a moment before he answered her.

"Returned, ye say?" he asked, as if he might actually be considering that possibility.

"Yes, at once," Cornelia said, slightly less hostility in her voice.

Barbossa thought it over once more and then nodded. "Aye, very well. Returned they shall be, Mrs...?"

"Beckett," Cornelia snapped at him haughtily. "My husband is Charles Beckett with the East India..."

"I know who yer husband is." Barbossa cut her off, and the smile he now wore could not be described as a pleasant one.

The pirate with the black bandanna said something to Barbossa, eliciting a nod of acknowledgment from the captain.

"Well," he said, his manner becoming slightly more cheerful again, "me lads are finished." He turned and gave me the slightest nod.

"It's been nice chattin' with you, but now it's time to go," he said, and then he exchanged a few more words with the nearby pirate, who was evidently Mr. Harlow, and turned and strode back across the deck.

For my part, the relief I felt at that moment, as the pirates began returning to their ship, and Captain Flint returned to verify that we were unharmed, could not possibly be described with words.

Other than the words 'short-lived' that is, for just as Cornelia was about to open her mouth, I realized that our captors were again grabbing the three of us by the arms and dragging us across the deck.

Lydia fell back into hysterics, clutching the baby for dear life, and Cornelia began shrieking indignantly about the audacity these men had and the fact that she wanted her property back.

As for me, I thought I was going to be ill, and was struggling to fight back the wave of panic-induced nausea. Not understanding what was happening for a moment, as soon as we were dragged in front of Barbossa at the opposite rail, the smug expression he wore said more than I cared to know, and full comprehension of the situation dawned on me.

Evidently the same train of thought had not caught up with Captain Flint, who stepped in to argue with Barbossa.

"The agreement we made," said Captain Flint angrily, "specified that you would return the baby to her mother, and leave the crew and the ship unharmed if everyone cooperated."

"Aye," Barbossa said heartily. "The child is with her mother again, and yer crew are yet unharmed, are they not? I have kept me part of the bargain, Captain Flint."

Captain Flint was furious, unable to do anything about it as Barbossa turned away, and pirates once again began dragging the three of us forward, obviously intending to cross to the black ship with us.

Had I not been in such dire circumstances myself, I would have felt bad for him when Barbossa called back from the black ship. "'Twas you who fergot to specify leaving the crew _and_ the passengers," he said with a laugh.

My two companions then fully comprehended the situation, and the only thing that saved Lydia was the fact that she fainted dead away with the baby clutched in her arms. Eager to get off the _Essex _at that point, Mr. Harlow instructed her two captors to leave the unconscious woman behind.

Despite the fact that I fought for all I was worth, my struggle was in vain as the two pirates who dragged me across to the pirate ship were large enough that it required little effort on their part to restrain a panicked woman.

They dragged me across the deck, and I found myself once more face to face with Captain Barbossa. "Welcome aboard, Miss Gray," he said cordially, but he sounded more than a little pleased with himself.

I said nothing in reply, for at that moment two more pirates arrived, dragging Cornelia, who was shrieking with incoherent outrage.

"Liar!" she cried. "You despicable outlaw! You vile beast, you..." She didn't finish her sentence as Barbossa threw his head back and laughed heartily.

"Vile beast?" he asked, obviously amused. He called out to the company of pirates that had gathered around us. "What say ye lads? Do you think me to be a vile beast?"

"AYE!" the unanimous cheer went up, and Barbossa laughed again.

He turned back to Cornelia. "I'm not certain why 'tis that ye insult me so –have I not returned yer belongin's to you?" He pointed at where her luggage was sitting, a few yards away, and joined the rest of the pirates in another round of laughter.

Unused to and incensed by the thought of anyone making fun of her, my traveling companion did something incredibly stupid at that point. Yanking herself free of her laughing captors, she stepped forward with haughty anger and slapped Barbossa across the face.

"You dishonorable scoundrel," she hissed, "do you have any idea who you are dealing with?"

I recall wishing that I could just fling myself over the side of the ship at that moment, whether or not we were well away from the _Essex_.

Jeers and catcalls went up from the crew as Barbossa turned back toward Cornelia with out a word. He gave her his most charming smile, and then suddenly slapped her back - not hard enough to severely injure her, but hard enough to sound awful and probably sting like hell.

I must confess that there had been many times in the past when the same urge had come over me when I dealt with Cornelia, but I lacked the gumption to do it.

Cornelia was fine, but her pride had been assaulted, and she began ranting, completely oblivious to the fact that the world she had stepped into on board the pirate ship acknowledged none of the rules of the world she was used to.

At that point, tired of her shrieking, Barbossa rolled his eyes and then ordered her taken away with a wave of his hand.

I suddenly found, as Cornelia's shrieks disappeared with her below deck, that I was alone with Barbossa and about three-dozen brigands, thieves, and rogues.

And I didn't like the way that any of them were looking at me.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review the first two chapters. Feedback is always fun and an inspiration to keep writing!

**Chapter Three ~*~**

Not that it would have really done me any good to still have Cornelia with me, but I would have felt better psychologically if I weren't standing alone on the deck of the pirate ship under the moonless sky. The only things that cut through the darkness were the lanterns on deck, and the jeers and whistles that came from all around me.

I endured it for a full minute while Barbossa gave instructions to Harlow. The captain become agitated when he realized most of the men were standing around idly, and began barking orders at them. "What are ya gawkin' at, ya filthy sea rats?" he snarled. "Move yer swag-bellied arses or I'll have yer gizzards for gravy!"

They were less than eloquent, but Barbossa's words had a decidedly motivating effect on the crew who, like rats indeed, scurried across the deck, up the rigging and into the holds.

Barbossa waved his hand in an abrupt dismissive gesture. "Take 'er away," he spat at Harlow, who took my arm and led me below deck.

I was taken to where Cornelia still shrieked and carried on from behind the bars of the cell where she'd been locked up.

"This is absurd!" she cried out to me when I had joined her behind the bars, and Harlow had left us. "How dare they do this! Just who do they think they are?"

I could sense that my companion still wasn't in touch with the reality of the situation, and wondered if perhaps Barbossa should have slapped her a bit harder to knock a little more sense into her.

"They think they're pirates," I said bluntly. "They're cutthroats, thieves and murderers, Cornelia. They don't care that you're offended."

"Just wait until Charles hears about this," she said arrogantly. "He'll have a whole fleet of privateers hunt down this scum and sink this ship!"

I didn't bother to point out to my cellmate that she would first have to get off the ship for Charles to find out what had happened, and that I didn't think that was entirely likely.

I sat down on the floor, as the adrenaline that had been flowing through my veins had subsided a bit, leaving me feeling drained. I ignored Cornelia while she continued to rant self-righteously for another half hour.

More than twenty four hours later, our situation showed no sign of improving as we sat hungry, thirsty, and exhausted on the hard floor, getting dirtier by the minute. It was a few moments later that I heard voices, and there stood Harlow, accompanied by two surly-looking pirates. Cornelia and I both scrambled to our feet and scurried to the back of the cage, fearful of what the men wanted.

Harlow unlocked the door to our cell with a key from a large ring and swung it open. "You're wanted on deck. Captain wants a word with you," he said gruffly.

Cornelia drew herself up and stepped forward. "I certainly have something I want to say to the captain," she sneered. She was cut off as Harlow drew a pistol and pointed at her, and she shrieked and ran behind me, grabbing my arm and shielding herself behind my shoulder.

I won't say just what I thought about Mrs. Beckett at that moment, but in truth, my attention was primarily focused on the pistol Harlow was pointing our way. He waved the gun toward the stairs, indicating we should go.

It seemed entirely strange that it was such a beautiful sunny morning up on deck. The feathery white clouds and sparkling sapphire sea seemed incongruous with the black ship, and indeed, our situation.

Captain Barbossa stood watching us and marking our progress, with his arms folded across his chest as we were led to the quarterdeck. When Harlow presented us to him he opened his mouth as if to speak, but Cornelia beat him to the punch.

"Captain," she started in arrogantly, "this situation is completely intolerable! We are _not_ animals to be locked up in some filthy cage for your amusement!"

Anger flashed in Barbossa's eyes for a moment, but was gone almost before I saw it there. He sauntered up to Cornelia, a smirk replacing the look of irritation, and walked slowly around her, looking her over in a most ungentlemanly way. "Perhaps, Mrs. Beckett," he said, "you have another way in mind to keep me amused?"

His insinuation was not lost on Cornelia, and her mouth dropped open in horror as she realized what he was suggesting. The look on her face elicited an outburst of laughter from our three escorts.

Barbossa continued to toy with my companion, calling out to the others. "What say ye, Mr. Harlow? Think ye that Mrs. Beckett would find me amusing as well?"

"Aye, Cap'n," Harlow replied, joining in the fun, "but on this ship it's share and share alike."

Cornelia glanced in a horrified way from Barbossa to Harlow and back.

"That'd be true!" Barbossa sang out gleefully. "What'd be yer pleasure, Mr. Harlow? Do ye favor this raven beauty...or perhaps this fine golden lass?" he asked, stepping entirely too close to me in order to include me in the fun.

I wouldn't have held it against him if he'd neglected me at that point.

Harlow never got the chance to answer as Cornelia piped up again. "You wouldn't dare," she said, seething with indignation.

Barbossa merely laughed and turned to walk a pace or two away and lean nonchalantly on the railing. "Ladies," he said casually, "may I speak plainly?"

I don't recall thinking that we actually had a choice in the matter.

"Recently I had the good fortune to discover that Mrs. Beckett would be aboard the _Essex_," he began.

Cornelia cut him off. "How could you possibly know that?" she demanded.

Barbossa smiled tolerantly at her. "Mrs. Beckett, is there yet anyone in the Caribbean who's not aware of yer grand shoppin' expedition?"

He had a point. Cornelia had boasted for months to anyone and everyone about the exotic draperies and fine furnishings she would be fetching in London.

"So what?" Cornelia demanded.

"So, it presented me with a great opportunity," he replied, almost cheerfully.

"What opportunity?" I heard myself ask, not really having meant to ask the question in my head out loud.

"Why, Miss Gray," Barbossa said to me, cordially, "the opportunity for revenge." He said it in a manner that implied it should be obvious.

"R- revenge?" stammered Cornelia. "I've never done anything to you. "I've never even met you before."

"Aye, but the same cannot be said fer Mr. Charles Beckett nor his brother, Cutler," Barbossa explained. "You are prisoners on board the _Rogue Wave_ until we receive the ransom."

"Ransom?" Cornelia gasped.

Barbossa smiled at her again. "Aye, an' a grand one at that!"

I took the opportunity to inform the captain that Charles was merely an acquaintance, and that I'd only ever met Cutler at a dinner one time.

"'Tis unfortunate that ye be caught up in this, Miss Gray," he said, sounding somewhat sympathetic, "but our position is stronger with more than one hostage."

The reality of the situation had still not dawned on Cornelia, and she lit up, furious again. "You're insane! My husband will not bow to your demands, and he certainly will not stoop to paying for _her_." She flashed a look of disdain my way.

Barbossa shrugged. "We'll see. Fer now ye remain our guests." He began to turn away, and was about to dismiss our escorts and us when Cornelia struck again.

"Guests!" she shrieked. "Guests! We've been half starved and shut up in the dark inhumanely! It's _filthy_ down there!" she cried out. "Look at this!" she demanded, plucking at the crumpled and soiled skirt of her dress. "It's from Paris, and it's _ruined_ thanks to you!"

Barbossa whirled about, furious, and descended on my unwise companion. She shrank back with a cry as he loomed over her and his voice dropped dangerously low. "I would hate for you to be unhappy with yer dress," he snarled.

He suddenly grabbed her by the neckline of the dress with both hands, and with a violent movement, tore the gown down the center to her feet, showering dozens of buttons about the deck. He yanked the dress down off her shoulders roughly, down her arms, and flung it over the ship's rail, leaving Cornelia standing there in shock and her undergarments.

When the captain turned angrily in my direction, I recall clutching at the front of my own dress, which, although not as fine as the Paris gown, was just as dear to me that moment.

"Mine's fine," I managed to croak, and Barbossa swept past irately. "Take 'em below," he snarled, as he headed aft.

I believe it is unnecessary for me to say that our situation had still not improved as we were returned to the brig, as I now knew our prison was called.

I was exhausted, dirty and starving, and in addition, I had to listen to Cornelia's continuous wailing about her dress and being assaulted.

"That brute!" she shrieked. "How dare he! That dress was from Paris!"

I ignored her as she sat down and started sobbing loudly, face buried in her hands.

I should have imparted some words of comfort to her, I know, but somehow I just didn't have the ability, depressed as I was becoming at our situation. It wasn't long before I felt overwhelmed myself, and the tears welling up in my own eyes.

I realized that my only hope at that point was that Charles Beckett was more of a decent human being than his wife, and that he might actually consider paying the ransom that was going to be demanded for my release as well.

I didn't want to even contemplate what might become of me if he didn't. While my father and uncles in England might well be able to get together a decent sum, I was sure Barbossa was not a patient enough man to be bothered waiting the amount of time it would take for them to come up with the money.

Just as I felt myself falling into despair, I heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see Mr. Harlow approaching with a tray.

Harlow, a man of average height and build, with a gold earring in one ear, a thick mustache, and a black bandanna bound around his balding head, sat the tray down outside the cell as he fumbled for his keys.

It contained two cups, a large flagon of water, some cheese and some coarse-looking bread or biscuit of sorts. Harlow opened the door, slid the tray to our side, and closed it again as Cornelia and I both climbed quickly to our feet. "I figured you might be hungry," he said, and then turned to leave.

I had already knelt by the tray and begun to pour two cups of water, but I called after him. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he said gruffly, and disappeared.

I held one cup out to Cornelia, even as I gulped the water I had poured for myself. She did likewise, and I refilled both cups. I then broke up chunks of bread and cheese for us and began to eat hungrily.

Cornelia wrinkled her nose up and looked suspiciously at the contents of the tray, and then picked up a small piece of dry biscuit. She nibbled a tiny corner and then flung the rest on the ground. "What is that?" she asked disdainfully, starting to sob again.

"Food," I answered, trying to make the best of our rations, "you should eat something."

"I can't eat that," she wailed. "It's pirate food!" She buried her face in her hands again, crying wretchedly. "To think I might have to stoop to eating what pirates eat! I would rather starve."

"Cornelia," I said, between bites of cheese, "it's only three days to Port Royal. You can't starve to death in three days."

"Shut up!" she screeched at me.

I confess, even though it would have horrified my dear mother, God rest her, that I was beginning to consider taking a leaf out of Captain Barbossa's book and slapping my companion senseless.

Having taken the edge off my hunger, I managed to ignore her as she pitifully lamented her unjust fate, and I actually dozed off for a while against the wall.

I awoke a while later to Cornelia shouting threats to anyone who might hear her and carrying on rather hysterically.

This pattern of alternating between silent despair and vocal, dramatic outbursts every hour or so continued well into the night, despite the calls from some of the crew for her to shut up. It wasn't until a particularly fierce-looking pirate threatened to cut out her tongue and shove it in the other end of her digestive tract that Cornelia finally complied.

In the morning, I was first surprised by the fact that I had managed to get any sleep at all in our desperate situation, and then by the appearance of Mr. Harlow, again with another tray of food.

Cornelia didn't even look up from where she pouted silently in the corner as he slipped the tray through to us as he had the day before.

I nodded at him. "Thank you, Mr. Harlow," I said sincerely.

"It's nothing," he replied gruffly. "Besides, it's captain's orders."

"Oh," I said, kneeling down in front of the food again as he moved off. I suddenly had a thought. "Mr. Harlow?" I called to him, causing him to halt on the second stair. "Would you please tell the captain I said thank you?"

"Aye," he said, and disappeared.

It was late in the afternoon, by my estimation, when Harlow reappeared at our cell door and began unlocking it.

He saw the concerned look on my face and spoke in his gruff, but not unkind, manner. "Captain thought you might like a bit of fresh air on deck," he explained, swinging the door wide and standing to one side.

At his explanation, Cornelia climbed to her feet and dusted herself off with an irritated gesture. "Well, it's about time," she snipped, heading for the door.

Harlow held up his hand, halting her in her tracks. "Not you." He nodded at me to indicate that I was welcome to go.

I recall thinking that I should have felt bad for Cornelia, but somehow couldn't find it in me to sympathize that she wasn't going to be let out, since she obviously didn't think I was worth any ransom money.

As I headed for the stairs, she began to shriek at me in disbelief. "You're not going to leave me here all alone, are you?"

It became obvious that I was as I turned and headed for the stairs with Harlow.

"Fine!" she screamed after me. "Fine! Leave me in this squalid darkness, starving and filthy while you go and bask in the sun!"

I could hardly call being allowed to stretch my legs for a few minutes on deck basking, but I wasn't about to miss the chance to get out of our prison for even a short while. I climbed toward the deck with the first mate.

Whether I was planning on basking or not, the weather would not have been cooperative that late afternoon. While it wasn't raining, it was overcast, and large, towering, black clouds could be seen a ways off, indicating a probable thunderstorm on the horizon.

Having been in the brig for another extended period, I had to shield my eyes again for a moment even though the sky was gray. Harlow indicated that I was to follow him and he led me along the deck, pointing a short way ahead to where the captain stood, his back to us, gazing out over the water through a spyglass.

"Cap'n," he said, as we reached where Barbossa scrutinized a spot on the horizon. The captain ignored us for another moment or two, and then at last collapsed the glass and turned to where I stood next to Harlow.

"Good afternoon, Miss Gray," he said cordially, giving me a slight nod and then glancing out over the waves before speaking again. He seemed to be preoccupied with something out there, although I couldn't determine what.

Finally he focused his attention on me. "Leave us," he ordered Harlow.

"Aye, Cap'n." Harlow turned and went aft toward the helm.

"Will you walk a bit?" he asked, indicating the length of deck before us. I nodded and followed, trying to keep at least an arm's length between us.

"I have a favor to ask of ye," he said, as we walked along the deck.

"A favor?" I found myself asking, surprised at his statement and the fact that I had spoken.

"Aye. It concerns yer friend, Mrs. Beckett," he replied.

I must admit I am not quite sure why I said what I did, or why it mattered to me that this pirate knew. "She's not my friend," I said. "We're neighbors in Port Royal."

"I see." Barbossa took a minute to look at the spot off the starboard side he'd been observing a moment before, and then continued. "Jus' the same, I wonder if I might ask you to see what can be done about her wailin' like a banshee all night."

"I'm not really sure that anything I have said to her so far has made any difference," I said, frowning as I considered why he would ask this of me.

" 'Twould be most considerate of you to try again," Barbossa said, his tone indicating that he expected results. "I fear that me crew is fed up to the gills with her bellyachin' and drama, and might just take it upon themselves to shut her up fer good."

"Why the sudden concern for Mrs. Beckett's welfare?" I asked cautiously, probably still being bolder than I had a right to by doing so.

A short bark of laughter escaped from Barbossa. "Miss Gray, I'd not give two shillin's about her welfare, given the choice, but if me crew cuts her throat, then it'll put one hell of a dent in our profit fer the voyage."

He laughed a little again when he saw my barely concealed look of contempt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four ~*~**

**--**

Captain Barbossa had turned away, raising his spyglass again and looking off to starboard. I was wondering whether or not this meant I was dismissed, but I didn't dare leave if I hadn't been told to do so. I stood there for probably a full minute before curiosity about what had riveted the man's attention so got the better of me.

"What are you looking at?" I asked.

He lowered the spyglass and glanced my way, and I don't recall which one of us seemed more surprised that I'd dared asked the question. He offered me no reply, but silently handed me the small telescope, and I took it, wondering if I should just give it back and mind my own business. Curiosity and a desire to stay out in the fresh air caused me to squint and peer through the glass at the horizon.

All I could see were the waves that were now beginning to show white at the curl, as the wind had picked up a notch with the approaching thunderstorm. I looked for another minute, still seeing nothing of interest, and as I concentrated I failed to notice that Barbossa had taken a step closer to me.

I didn't see him reach for my arm, and when his fingers touched my wrist, I jumped in alarm, almost dropping the spyglass. I fumbled with it for a second as I lunged back a step.

He rolled his eyes at me and indicated that I should look again. When I did, (keeping him in my periphery this time) he reached out and slowly pushed the glass so that I was now lined up with the target I'd missed the first time.

It was a ship.

While it was unfortunate for the crew of the cargo ship in my sight that they had been spotted by the _Rogue Wave_, what I didn't know was that the events that would take place over the next few hours would be fortunate for me, indeed. That ship's crew was to be, in part, responsible for saving me, although not in the way you might first expect.

I handed the spyglass back to Barbossa, who took it and shouted over his shoulder to the crew, who had been awaiting instructions.

"I want all hands on deck, Master Harlow!" he called out. "Time to go to work, gentlemen!"

He turned and strode briskly across the deck after indicating I should follow, which I did a short way behind. Although it obviously didn't slow him down, I noted his subtle limp was a little more pronounced as he climbed the stairs to give the helmsman his orders.

As for me, I remained at the bottom of the stairs, trying to stay out of the way of pirates that were now scurrying about the deck to their stations. Most of them ignored me completely, but a few shot a curious glance in my direction on the way by, and one actually winked at me before heading up the rigging.

Evidently Barbossa had intended that I follow him, and he called down impatiently to me. "Are ye comin' or not, Miss Gray?"

The man at the great ship's wheel raised an eyebrow at me when I climbed the stairs, and I merely shrugged in response. I didn't know what I was doing there either.

"Hard to starboard, Master Bernard!" Barbossa instructed the helmsman. He barked orders harshly out over the deck.

"Get yer mangy balls up the nets, you toad-spotted dogs! Hang every inch of cloth she'll carry!"

Pirates continued to swarm over the ship, anxious to follow Barbossa's instructions and to capture the prize they had spotted.

"There's weather approachin'! I want that wench trussed up and pounded hard before sundown!"

There was no mistaking that as harsh and colorful as his commands were, that there was an underlying tone of glee.

"That bitch'll ne'er know what hit her!" he cried out across the deck.

At that point he turned back to me and gave me a wry smile. "Ye'll have to pardon me enthusiasm," he quipped.

I nodded, never once considering showing I was offended, but feeling mostly relieved to realize that it was the ship we were closing on that was the wench he wanted trussed up.

More canvas rippled and snapped taut with the gathering wind, and we began steadily closing the distance between the two ships.

Barbossa spoke again, sounding more than a little smug. "Now, ye'll see what real piratin' is like, Miss Gray. There's nobody as knows their business better'n me lads here."

I suddenly realized by his tone that he might actually be showing off a little, and had I not been so intimidated by my circumstances, I may have actually laughed.

Horrified and enthralled at the same time, I watched the game of cat and mouse unfold over the next half-hour. When the _Rogue_ got close enough that the target would probably know she was a pirate vessel for sure, and either try to run or retaliate, Barbossa spoke again.

"It's time you went below," he said, pointing at the stairs. "Tis no place for a lady during a battle," he continued, a hint of mockery in his voice.

I had no desire at all to be on deck when the hostilities arose between the two ships. In fact, I would say that I had no desire to be on board the ship at all. I picked up my skirts and returned to the brig, escorted by a very young pirate that Harlow sent to lock me back up.

Cornelia was seething with resentment as I returned. "Did you have a nice holiday?" she asked. "You know, while I was stuck down here in the dungeon?"

I was getting very tired of her by that point. Only the uncanny ability to bite my tongue that I had inherited from my mother kept me from saying what was really on my mind. Still feeling a bit malicious toward her, I informed her of Barbossa's request.

"The captain asked me to inform you that if you don't stop wailing like a banshee at night, that most likely the crew will slit your throat," I said matter-of-factly.

"They wouldn't dare..." She started to work herself into her self-righteous frenzy, but I cut her off.

"Oh, I believe they would. Barbossa said that if the crew didn't get to you first, that he wanted 'the wench trussed up and pounded hard before sundown.'" I was feeling too mean spirited toward her at the moment to tell her the context of what he'd actually said, and her mouth dropped open in horror.

"Trussed up?" she asked with incredulous fury. "Trussed up? Like some plucked game bird?"

"Just like one, I should imagine," I said innocently.

Cornelia plunked herself on her rump in the corner and sat silently fuming over what I'd told her. The best part for me was the fact that she was actually _silent_ for the moment, and I enjoyed one of the few minutes of peace and quiet I'd had while locked in the cell with her.

Until the cannons began firing that is.

We both jumped to our feet at first, but when we realized that the cargo ship was returning fire at us, we both flung ourselves to the floor of the brig. Fortunately we did, because a moment later a large chunk of wood down the hold splintered and flew in every direction as the _Rogue _took a direct hit from the merchant vessel.

Cornelia and I both screamed involuntarily and flung our arms over our heads where we lay. The noise all about the ship was tremendous as her cannons pounded the other vessel, and men shouted from all directions.

There was another huge _whump _that came from somewhere overhead, and I could only surmise that we'd taken another hit. It came to me then with a wave of horror, that it was possible that the merchant vessel could possibly sink the pirate ship, and if she were to go down, Cornelia and I would be locked in the cell as she did.

I hardly thought that pirates abandoning ship would bother to make sure we were spared. I hope that I have not lessened myself in the reader's eyes by admitting what I was thinking at that moment, but I actually began to hope that Barbossa and his crew might defeat the other ship, for no other reason than I simply didn't want to drown.

As I lay on the floor next to Cornelia, another sound gradually made it to my ears through the noise of the battle. Not far away, where the ship's hull had taken damage, I could hear what I thought was a moan. It sounded like somebody in pain, but as I listened more carefully, I didn't hear it again. I decided I must have mistaken creaking timbers for the sound as the ship came about.

Over the next few minutes, the sound of cannon fire tapered off, both from and at the _Rogue Wave_, and all at once it stopped. We could hear occasional voices outside the brig, but for the most part we could not hear enough of anything to discern what was happening.

Another half hour went by before two pirates made it to our part of the ship, on rounds to assess the damage she had taken below. When they discovered the hole in the hull not far from us they suddenly became visibly upset at what they found, and from what I could see it wasn't just the damage. Evidently a crewmember had sustained serious injury when he was unfortunate to be passing by the vicinity of the cannonball that had shattered the small section of hull.

They lifted him under the arms and by his legs, and again I heard him moan, as I had actually heard early.

"Poor great auld bugger," one of the pirates was saying as they carried him past our cell.

I was then at the front of the cage, a hand resting on each of two bars as I tried to see what condition the injured man was in. Blood was everywhere in large stains on his clothes, and he looked like he was barely conscious.

"I can help him!" I yelled after the pirates that were carting the injured man away. "Let me out! I'm a doctor!"

Evidently they both thought I was a terrible liar or had an odd sense of humor, and they ignored me as just a crazy female prisoner desperate to get out of my cell.

I sputtered as they disappeared, frustrated that they hadn't taken a woman seriously. It wasn't the first time I'd been through that, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. I sat down in a huff and said a silent prayer for the injured man, pirate or not.

A few minutes later, Mr. Harlow appeared and spoke urgently through the bars. "You –you're the doctor?"

I could see that his upper arm was bound tightly with blood seeping through the knotted cloth, and leaping to my feet, hurried to the front of the brig. "Yes," I said earnestly, hoping he would believe me.

Apparently he did, because he unlocked the door, although with a bit of difficulty, and I stepped out quickly.

"I'll just stay here, shall I?" Cornelia sneered from her corner, ignored by both of us at that point.

"Here," I said, reaching toward his makeshift bandage, "let me take a look at..."

Harlow shook his head. "Later. Captain asked if you'd help on deck. There's some as are worse off than I am."

I nodded and followed him quickly to the deck of the ship where I was stopped in my tracks at what I saw. Splintered wood and rope littered the deck, and several of the sails on the main mast were in tatters. We were snug up next to the merchant vessel, which had evidently lost the conflict, and I could see across to where a small group of sailors were being held by some of the _Rogues_' pirates. The rest of her heavily damaged deck was littered with dead and dying.

I was startled when Harlow touched my elbow, and I looked away from the destruction across the way to follow him. He led me to where the injured man from below had been laid out on the deck, and I quickly dropped to my knees at his side.

Clearly unconscious, and probably better off for it, the man had several grim injuries that did not bode well for his survival. Bone protruded from a shattered left forearm, and a large splinter of wood, eight inches or longer, protruded from his thigh. Several smaller splinters of shattered hull were imbedded in his face and chest.

"Can ye do anything fer 'im?" Barbossa's grim voice asked over my shoulder as I finished my rapid assessment. I stood and faced him, looking grim myself.

"I don't know...I can try," I said. "He's very badly injured. I suspect he'll need part of the arm with the compound fracture amputated. His pupils are miotic, which probably means head trauma, maybe subdural bleeding, and God knows what damaged that projectile has done to his femoral vasculature," I said, indicating where the long chunk of wood protruded.

"I think that most of those smaller pieces are superficial and haven't penetrated any of his viscera, but I can't swear that he isn't hemorrhaging internally.

Barbossa raised an eyebrow toward the brim of his plumed hat. "Care to put any of that into the King's English, Miss Gray?" I think from the look on his face that he was thoroughly convinced that I was the genuine article.

"Oh," I said, slightly embarrassed that I had rattled off my assessment in clinical terminology that had gone over the pirate's head. "He's critical, and he's going to lose the arm."

"Ah, now that I understand," Barbossa replied. "What be his chances?"

"Abysmal," I said honestly. Barbossa continued to stare at me expectantly and I was afraid I'd again said something he didn't understand. "It means..."

"Miss Gray," he said, obvious impatience and irritation edging into his voice, "I am well acquainted with a variety of expressions that denote a dismal outlook, includin' 'abysmal.'

"Will ye try at least?" he asked, still waiting for me to do something.

I nodded. "Yes, I'll need an assistant, and there are other items that..."

Barbossa interrupted me as he turned to a group of the men who were standing around, listening to what I thought the injured man's chances were.

"You, Hickmott, Waters, Bellamy...get the doctor whatever she asks fer. I'll not take kindly to findin' out Turk died because you didn't move yer arses sharply enough fer her likin'!"

The captain nodded at me, indicating I had the help I needed and that I could take over once they had been given his motivational pep talk.

We moved Turk, as the captain had called him, off the deck and onto a table the men set up for me in a small cabin where we'd be out of the wind and the approaching storm that was closing.

I turned to the pirates that had been drafted by Barbossa to be my assistants. "You," I indicated Bellamy, the tall dark one. "Get me towels, water, bandages if you have them, sheets if you don't."

I looked at Hickmott, a young lad barely of age who looked out of place on a pirate ship. "Go to where the items from the _Essex_ were stored. See if there is still a large leather satchel with Mrs. Beckett's trunks of clothes and bring it here if there is." He nodded and scurried off.

Waters was looking at me expectantly, a man with darkly tanned skin and several gold hoop earrings. "We're going to need something for the blood," I informed him, and could see him pale under his sun-browned skin a little as I continued. "What is there on board? Do you have hay? Wood shavings? Sand?"

"Aye, we have sand," he replied, looking ill.

"Get me some and cover the floor here well," I said, indicating the area all about the table Turk was laid out on. Waters ran to do as I asked.

I rolled up my sleeves tightly and began removing the tattered and blood soaked shirt that clung to the unconscious man. His torso was bruised and bloodied, and I suspected that he had some broken ribs as well. I knew his chances were indeed dismal, but I felt I couldn't just stand by and let the man die without trying, even if he was a pirate.

Waters made it back first and began laying a thick layer of sand as I had directed across the floor, and then he helped Bellamy bring in two basins of water, towels and some linen bandages.

I said a little prayer of thanks when young Mr. Hickmott finally appeared in the doorway with my medical bag, which the pirates had not had a chance to explore or discard yet.

Hoping that Turk would not wake up as I worked, as most of what I was about to do was going to be either very painful or excruciating, I lay out what I thought I was most likely to need alongside the bleeding man, and picked up a pair of heavy shears. I wouldn't be able to work on the wood protruding from his thigh without better exposure, and I slid the shears up his pant leg from boot to hip.

No one said anything as I worked, and a brief glance confirmed that all three pirates were riveted to what I was doing.

Although the shattered arm looked the worst with splintered ends of the bone protruding, it wasn't bleeding anymore, and I knew it could wait, as could the superficial wounds from the smaller splinters of wood. The broken ribs would have to mend on their own, if he survived, and as for the head trauma? It was going to be up to a higher authority than me to determine the outcome of that.

What I needed to do was to remove this shard of wood from his thigh. If Turk was lucky, he'd have one hell of a deep gash that might heal in time, or might just as likely fester and rot. If he wasn't lucky and the wood was acting to plug the hole, he would bleed to death rapidly and in a dramatic way once I removed it if his femoral artery was damaged.

I explained this quickly to prepare my assistants should things go badly.

"Hold his leg here and here," I said, taking hold of the wood in one hand, and a towel in the other. Bellamy stepped forward and put pressure on Turk's thigh on either side of the wound to give me leverage if I needed it.

"Ready?" I asked, making brief eye contact with a very pale Bellamy. He said nothing but swallowed hard, and nodded.

Towel poised in my left hand to staunch the spray of blood that I half expected, I tightened my grip on the wood with my right and pulled.

--

**A/N:** This scene was inspired by several cases that I've dealt with. While I certainly have never had to pull a chunk of hull out of a pirate's leg, I have had to pull a stick or three out of dogs' throats, and one of them had in fact damaged an artery that bled like a bugger when I removed the stick. The dog ended up being fine, but his owners don't let him play with sticks anymore! ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five ~*~**

--

When the large wooden shard came loose from Turk's leg, all three of my assistants cringed, especially Bellamy, who was holding the leg down for me. Blood began to well up in the gash left by the wood, but only that leaking from the damaged muscle, and not a dramatic spray from a major severed artery.

I did my best to dab the blood and pick out a few retained wood fragments, and then packed the wound with clean cloth and bound it tightly with a pressure bandage to get the steady seeping to stop.

At that point, the ship rolled more dramatically than it already had been, and I grabbed the table to maintain my balance.

"I'll come back to that once we take care of the rest of him," I said, glancing around at the men. All three faces looked a little ashen at that point, but no one looked like they were on the verge of fainting.

I turned away to gather up the saws and forceps, ligatures and needles, giving myself a respite from the scrutiny of the three seamen crowded into the tiny room with me, and took a deep breath to steady my own nerves.

Thunder could be heard not too far in the distance, and the ship rolled again, causing me to throw out a hand behind me as I stumbled back against the table.

The storm had evidently arrived.

I busied myself getting the screw tourniquet in place on Turk's upper arm, tightening it methodically and going over the procedure step by step in my head as I did so. While I had certainly performed amputations before, it was usually in a well-lit, clean office, with at least two assistants, and where my small surgical table was not rolling under my feet.

Thunder crashed again, a little closer overhead.

I looked at Bellamy and nodded to indicate I was ready. "I'll need you to hold his arm up so I can work quickly." He nodded back silently and gripped the arm near the tourniquet. I directed young Hickmott and Mr. Waters to station themselves at the man's head, and be ready to pin him down should he awaken during the operation.

As I lifted the blade, I had no idea that the captain had arrived with the next clap of thunder and was standing in the doorway watching intently.

I won't go into all the disconcerting details that accompany such a procedure, but I will tell you that at about the time I made a second pass with the saw into the arm just above Turk's elbow, there was a large _thud_ and I realized that I'd lost Waters. The man had fainted with the sound of metal cutting through bone.

A quick glance confirmed that young Hickmott was looking a bit pale, but appeared determined to stay at his station. I ignored Waters as there was nothing I could do for him at that moment.

I drew back the saw again, but had to stop for a moment and grab the table, as another swell caused the ship to rise up and back down, rolling as she went. It was then that nausea from seasickness began to catch up with me.

I had been slightly ill most of the three days I'd been on the _Essex _in good weather, but had managed to shoulder through it. Now, with the _Rogue Wave_ beginning to toss on the storm-driven swells, I was in trouble.

I took a couple of deep, slow breaths, trying to fight back the dizziness and the accompanying protest in my gut. I was beginning to feel hot and anxious.

I managed to continue with a few more stokes of the saw, to about two thirds of the way through the bone, when the next swell caused the ship to roll again. I grabbed the table, nearly dropping the saw, and tried to fight the intense vertigo.

Reflexively, I went to clamp my hand over my mouth, but the metallic smell of the blood on my fingers kept me from doing so, and it also pushed me over the edge. I dropped the saw on the table next to the unconscious man and doubled over in front of a very wide-eyed Hickmott, retching and spewing the contents of my addled stomach in the sand at his feet.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my arm, I clutched at the table, trying to stand back up as the next swell rose up and then down, taking the _Rogue _with her. I lost my hold on the table edge as the room spun past my eyes, and would have fallen were it not for the strong grip that held my arms.

"Easy, lass." It was Barbossa's voice behind me. "Ye've got a bit of work to finish yet," he said calmly, raising me back to my feet. I reeled against him, fearing that I was going to heave the remains of what I'd eaten earlier on his boots.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed me. I complied at once, involuntarily, as his strong fingers bit deep into the flesh at my wrist.

"Ow!" I cried, trying to pry his hand off me. He didn't let go, and it was probably just as well as the ship rolled again, and he held me on my feet as he all but ignored the wave.

"Stop!" He shook me a little and I stopped fighting him. "There, now this'll help," he said, holding up my wrist in front of me so that I could see the pressure he was applying was intentional, and not meant to be cruel.

It took a minute, and I can't say that I didn't still feel quite under the weather, but the feeling of imminent vomiting, along with the sensations of being hot and anxious, subsided enough that I could stand on my own without the room spinning.

Barbossa released me. "Better?" he asked, knowing already that I probably was.

I nodded and picked up the saw, anxious to get the procedure over with before the storm got any worse. I shot one last questioning look at Barbossa, and then severed the rest of the bone, causing the mutilated part of the arm to drop into the sand on the floor.

Then came the tedious part: finding and ligating all the vessels, and then suturing the loose skin I'd left to close over the wound. I indicated to Bellamy that he could let go, and I think he and Hickmott were very relieved to drag both Waters and themselves out of the makeshift operating room for a few minutes.

For a long while I worked in silence, passing suture after suture of the silk through Turk's skin, closing the awful wound I'd been forced to create. I had to concentrate hard on what I was doing as I was still quite seasick, and I jumped a little when the captain spoke over my shoulder where he'd been peering at my work.

"I've not seen it done this way before," he said, obviously intrigued, "to have it all closed up neat and tidy."

I kept working but acknowledged that I'd heard him with a nod. "This is a technique that I learned from a French surgeon," I told him. "The wound heals much more quickly as long as it doesn't fester."

I got to the point where I was ready to bandage the stump, and felt another wave of intense nausea with the next wave and roll as I straightened back up from my work. Evidently Barbossa saw the color drain out of my face again and spoke.

"Here," he said, getting my attention. He held out his own wrist and drew back the white shirtsleeve that hung past his frockcoat, pointing at a spot about two finger's distance from his palm, very near another scar that started there and ran along his forearm, disappearing up his sleeve.

"Pressure fer about a minute. 'Twill help with the seasickness," he said, yanking his sleeve back down and pointing at my own arm.

I tried it, and stood there, applying pressure to the point he'd shown me. It helped just enough again that I could finish with my patient.

I returned to the leg wound to unpack the dressing and try and suture the jagged gash that remained.

"I learned that handy little trick from a pirate in Singapore," Barbossa said casually, still watching me work.

"Singapore?" I asked, and tied another knot of silk.

"Aye, years ago," he said, his voice growing a little distant. "Sao Feng, his name was." He paused as I tied the last suture. "Turk here, saved me life in Singapore a long ways back."

I straightened up and faced the taller pirate. "You know he's very likely to die?"

"Aye, that'd be true," he said with a nod, "but piratin' would be the way old Turk would have chosen to go out. I see you've done the best ye can by him, and that's all that can be done."

He turned and strode out of the tiny room, and Bellamy returned with a revived Waters to tend to their fallen comrade as well as the disaster that the small cabin had become. Young Hickmott appeared to escort me back to the brig, once I had a chance to wash my hands. "Please tell the captain that I'd like to check on Turk later," I said to the boy, and he nodded.

--

Cornelia shrieked as she saw me, and clamped her hand over her mouth, pointing at my dress with wide-eyed horror.

Looking down at myself, I realized that my dress, already the worse for wear, had a fair number of large bloodstains left from the operation, and sand had clung to some of the stains when I'd fallen on the floor.

She backed away from me as if I had something contagious.

"Cornelia, it's just a bit of blood," I said, already annoyed with her.

"A bit of blood?" she repeated incredulously. "I've never seen..."

She didn't finish her sentence as the next roll of the _Rogue_ flung us both off balance a little, windmilling our arms to compensate.

We kept to our feet and she started in on me again. "Ugh! Why you feel the need to play at such a dreadful occupation is beyond me, Madeline. Why didn't you pursue something more...normal?"

She took a step back when she saw the look on my face. I was tired, filthy and seasick, and in a very short period of time I'd been kidnapped, locked in a cage, taunted by randy pirates, shot at, and I had just finished an exhausting surgery while sailing through a storm and vomiting my guts out.

Needless to say I was in no mood for her pettiness, and I let her have it.

"Normal?" I snarled. "You mean like shopping? Afternoon tea? Parties?" I rode out the next swell as best I could and then continued. "So, you obviously think that I shouldn't have spent the last few hours playing at stripping down a complete stranger, cutting off his arm, and sewing up a hole in his leg the size of my fist to try and save his life?"

Cornelia made the mistake of opening her mouth again. "Well, he's only a pirate," she said. " I don't see that it would make one bit of difference if he lives or dies."

"Well," I said, turning away from her, "I shouldn't be surprised."

She opened her mouth again but I cut her off. "Do me a favor, Cornelia. Don't say anything to me for the rest of the night." I think the look I gave her shut her up more than my request.

I spent the next few hours miserably riding out the storm in the brig, and I think I actually bruised the inside of my wrists by trying to keep my seasickness suppressed to a point where I wasn't heaving emptily.

--

The storm had passed quickly, and the swells were beginning to let up a little, rocking the _Rogue_ less and less, when young Mr. Hickmott returned for me. I shot Cornelia another look that told her not to open her mouth as I left to check on Turk.

The tiny cabin that I'd operated in, no more than a large glorified closet really, had been scrubbed clean, and all traces of blood, sand and vomit had been completely erased. Turk had been laid on a cot that had replaced the table he'd laid on earlier, and when I checked on him he was still unconscious, and breathing shallowly, but regularly.

"Will you come for me in another few hours?" I asked Hickmott, who nodded but was looking at me in a wide-eyed odd way that he had been since I pulled the wood out of Turk's leg. "What is it?"

"Nothin'," he replied, somewhat shyly, "it's just that..."

"What?" I asked again.

"Well, I never realized that a woman could do surgery and operatin' like that," he replied honestly.

I gave him a warm smile. "You wouldn't be the only one, Mr. Hickmott." I turned to make my way back in the direction of the brig, but the young man held me up.

"I have orders from the cap'n that you're to update him after you looked at Turk."

"Well, you may tell him that..."

"He wants to see you in his cabin," Hickmott cut me off nervously. Evidently he wanted to be sure that his instructions were carried out.

I stood outside the doors to the great cabin while Hickmott knocked. "The doctor to see you, Cap'n." A muffled reply told him to send me in, and I pulled open one of the thick doors and stepped into the captain's cabin.

I'd only ever seen Captain Flint's quarters when Lydia, Cornelia, and I had dined with him, and his cabin had been neat as a pin, all polished mahogany and brass.

The room I stood in now contrasted sharply with Flint's neat, but unimaginative nautical décor. A collection of items and furniture that obviously had origins in many different countries filled the candle-lit space. My eyes traveled across an ornate folded wooden screen, carved with Asian figures of some sort, past a long, waist-high case full of books and scrolls against one wall, to the weathered-looking chart on the table in the middle of the room.

At the end of the table, Barbossa sat studying the map, a bottle and a goblet near the hand that held the corner of the chart, and his hat casting his face in shadow as he scrutinized the drawing before him.

I waited another minute while he continued to concentrate on the drawing, one hand stroking his beard in a thoughtful manner.

"You wanted an update, Captain Barbossa?" I asked.

"Aye," he replied a bit distractedly, and then finally looked up. "Have a seat, Miss Gray," he said, indicating the chair next to him.

I went and stood next to the chair for a moment, and in my tired state, I must say I wasn't thinking clearly. It suddenly dawned on me that I'd be waiting all night for the pirate to pull the chair out the way I was accustomed to gentlemen doing, and I pulled it away from the table myself and sat down.

"How be Master Turk?" he asked, leaning back in his chair as he spoke.

I was about to answer, but he sat forward so suddenly that I admit I was quite alarmed, and jumped out of my chair and ran to stand behind it with a shout.

"Almost fergot me manners," he said, and indicated that he was only reaching for the bottle on the table. He poured a second goblet and slid it in front of the chair I was easing myself back into.

"The same," I answered. "His coma hasn't changed, but no fever has set in yet."

Barbossa nodded as he took a draught from his own cup. He pointed at mine. "Have some."

"No, thank you," I declined, as politely as I could manage.

"Go on," he insisted," it'll settle yer nerves. Ye seem a bit jumpy."

"Yes, well, being kidnapped will do that to you," I said, slightly irritated.

A half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "I suppose that'd be true. Ye do look a bit worse fer wear."

I shot him the dirtiest look I dared.

He took another swig of rum and then gestured at me with the goblet. "We need to get you out of that dress, Miss Gray."

He saw the look of horror that was passing over my face at his comment and laughed. "I meant that ye'll be needin' a change of clothes."

I tried to act as if I had known that all along. "Of course you did," I replied weakly.

Barbossa was still amused at my expense, and he got up and walked past the back of my chair toward the door. "Miss Gray, ye'll be the first to know if I actually intend to part you from yer dress," he said, giving me a wry smile.

I decided I needed the rum after all.

--

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing!

For those of you who haven't experienced seasickness, it's miserable, and the acupressure point is in fact where Barbossa shows Madeline. They actually make wristbands that you can wear that keep a small amount of pressure constantly applied to the same spot, although they are better as a preventative than a treatment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Barbossa gave instructions I could not hear to Hickmott, who was waiting outside the cabin, and then let the door swing shut again. He then went to a side table and took an apple from a bowl of fruit there and returned to stand by his chair.

Drawing the pearl handled dagger from his hip very slowly so that he wouldn't send me leaping out of my chair again, he began to cut the apple as he spoke.

"Yer seasickness is better?" he asked as he cut.

I nodded.

"First storm at sea?"

I nodded again.

"Ye did well to get through that surgery," he said, sounding a little impressed as he placed the dagger on the table.

He handed me half of the apple and took a bite of his half. "Ye must be fairly smart if they let a woman such as yerself into medical trainin'," he mused, pacing casually over to the bookcase as he ate.

"I suppose."

I shrugged, though it went unseen, as Barbossa had turned his back to me.

"I suppose 'twould mean that yer smart enough to not go fer that blade on the table, behind my back," he said, still studying the contents of the shelf.

"It would," I replied, taking my gaze off the dagger.

A knock sounded at the cabin doors.

"Enter," Barbossa ordered.

Young Mr. Hickmott and another pirate I hadn't seen yet entered the cabin, carrying a trunk between them, and set it down on the floor. They were followed by a third man who was carrying a basin of water which he placed on the table.

"Thankee, lads," Barbossa said, dismissing them again with a nod. He took another bite of apple and went to open the chest, which I realized was one of Cornelia's.

It was locked, but that didn't stop Barbossa, who immediately drew his pistol and shot the lock, blowing it to bits.

"There," he pronounced. "I wager ye'll be able to make do with somethin' in here," he said, gesturing at the chest.

When I didn't move at first, he flipped open the trunk. "Go on. Mrs. Beckett has no need fer 'em at the moment."

I rose and went to peer in the trunk at the collection of dresses that were neatly folded and packed away -dresses that I'd never be able to afford even if my medical practice were successful. I felt guilty about taking one, but I really didn't want to remain in my blood stained clothes if I didn't have to.

Finally, I convinced myself to take the one closest to the top, a forest green one that had probably cost an arm and a leg.

"There," Barbossa said, turning on his heel and heading for the doors to the cabin. "I'll leave you to change, Miss Gray."

"Thank you," I called after him, grateful that he was leaving me some privacy.

"Aye, but do us both a favor," he said, nodding at the basin and the soap the other pirate had set out on the table. "Get yerself cleaned up some first...ye smell like a sheep's arse."

He shut the door.

While I was at first insulted at his comment, especially given that it was coming from a pirate whose personal hygiene was probably suspect, I realized that after spending so much time in the brig, which was near the few livestock on board, that it was unfortunately quite true.

I remember that the first thing I did as soon as Barbossa closed the cabin door was to lock it. I didn't trust him in the least, even though so far he'd been moderately civil. I still had the picture of the smoking wreck of the cargo ship with dead sailors on her deck too fresh in my memory to forget what the man was capable of.

At least for the next half hour, I had the illusion of freedom, locked away safely in that cabin. I stripped away the filthy remains of the dress I started the voyage in, and proceeded to scrub away the dirt and the dried blood, and the smell of sheep.

Although the water was cold, and the soap coarse, they were adequate to the task of removing the dirt and making me feel much better. It is quite remarkable what a difference being clean can make in one's outlook.

Rummaging through Cornelia's trunk, with a little less guilt by that point, I found a comb and a small mirror, and set about the task of working the tangles out of my hair. When I was done, I braided it and pinned it up at the nape of my neck, and set about lacing myself into the green dress.

The dress was a stunning little number that Cornelia had not even worn yet, and it fit quite well, but I frowned as I held the small mirror at arm's length to inspect myself.

While I would have loved to have the dress to wear at one of the many social gatherings held by Jamaican high society, at that moment I found it was entirely too revealing for me to be comfortable wearing it in my current situation.

Quickly I began examining the dresses that remained in the trunk; a cobalt blue one, and a lovely wine-colored one, among others. I found nothing that at first glance told me I was going to fair any better with those, and I cursed Cornelia's vanity at that moment. Somewhat better endowed than I was, she obviously had no issues whatsoever with having most of her décolletage on display.

As for me, working as a physician did not lend itself to wearing low cut dresses, and most of my wardrobe was much more conservative. However, as I didn't have the luxury of being able to choose clothes from my own trunk, which was probably well on its way to England with the _Essex_, I had to make do with lacing up the dress I had on as snugly as I could.

Finished with my washing and changing, I unlocked the door and pondered what I should do next. Deciding that I would stay put in the cabin and hopefully have a few more pirate-free moments, I began to wander slowly about the room and inspect the items that the captain had evidently collected in his travels.

I came back to the table and studied the map he'd left spread across it, absently picking up the half an apple I'd left there and taking a bite as I felt my curiosity piqued.

It was a map of a series of islands, with notations of differing lengths, and apparently different languages, and several comments written in here and there in the margins and corners. They appeared to be in Spanish, and although my French is nearly perfect, and my Latin quite good from my medical studies, I couldn't make out more than a word of the Spanish here and there.

"See anything interestin'?"

I jumped, as I hadn't heard Barbossa open the cabin door while I was trying to decipher a few of the other notations on the map, and took a step back away from the table.

"No," I said a bit nervously, "I can't read any of this."

"Nao fala Portugues?" Barbossa asked me, moving slowly around the table toward me.

So, the map was actually in Portuguese. I must have looked very surprised for a moment until the gist of what he'd asked sank in. "No, I don't speak a word of Portuguese…evidently you do?" I took another step back as he neared the place where I stood. I wasn't entirely sure that I liked the way he was looking at me.

"Só um pouquinho - eu entendo mais do que falo," he replied, clearly showing off.

"Parlez-vous Francais?" I asked, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"Bien sur," he replied, a bit smugly, " and a little Cantonese." He stopped a few feet from me and removed the map from the table, rolling it up as he continued to speak. "I know what yer thinkin' –that yer surprised a mere pirate such as meself might comprehend French and fancy words like 'abysmal'.

I hated to admit he was right and I felt a little sheepish.

"I'm aware that ye might not think much of me appearance, Doctor," he said, laying the West Country accent on heavily, "but ye'd best be believin' there's more to this old pirate than meets the eye."

I opened my mouth several times to reply, and at last settled for just keeping my mouth shut.

He walked past me and put the rolled up map on the shelf next to the other scrolls and books and then turned back to face me. "Speakin' of appearances…"

I could tell by the way he looked at me that he'd more than noticed the low cut dress.

"…ye don't really look much like a doctor at the moment."

At that moment I started to get irritated, although why I let the opinion of the rogue affect me at all, I don't really know. I suppose I get a little defensive at times about the subject.

Evidently, he saw the annoyed look starting to cross my face and he gave me what might have passed for a pleasant smile had he not been the pirate who was holding me hostage. "'Twas meant to be a compliment, Miss Gray," he said, sitting down in his chair again.

"Oh," I said, a little flustered and unsure whether or not it was a good thing he was paying me a compliment or not.

He poured himself more of the rum and held the bottle up, offering it to me, and then set it aside as I shook my head. Sitting back in his chair and crossing one foot over his knee, he regarded me thoughtfully for a second.

"So, Miss Gray, I have a proposal for ye," he said, swirling the rum in the goblet absently as he spoke.

"And what would that be?" I asked, almost afraid to ask.

"Well, I like to think of meself as a man of some integrity," he began, as I fought not to let my jaw drop open incredulously, " and I think what you did today warrants better treatment than ye've had from us so far."

"I'd say it wouldn't take much to top the way we've been treated to this point," I said coolly.

"Touché," he replied. "Let's just focus on movin' ahead, then, alright?"

"Alright," I agreed.

"There be one other small cabin opposite the one Turk is in now. I'd be willin' to let you berth there instead of in the brig until our little business transaction in Port Royal is complete, in return fer you continuin' to do yer best to look after him."

"I would have done that anyway," I replied, a little defensively.

"Aye, that much I know of you already," he said.

I thought it over for a minute or two while he had another swig of rum. "Is there room for both of us?" I asked.

"Both of us?" Barbossa sat there, tongue in cheek for a moment and then spoke in an amused way. "Why, Miss Gray, if ye fancy me company I have plenty of room here," he smirked, gesturing at the cabin we sat in.

"I meant Mrs. Beckett and myself," I replied, obviously appalled.

"Ye'd prefer Mrs. Beckett's company to mine?" he asked, with mock hurt.

"That would be difficult to decide," I said, through clenched teeth, belying my own annoyance with Cornelia.

"To be answerin' yer question, yes, there is room fer both of you...but do you think Mrs. Beckett deserves it?" he asked, uncrossing the foot off his knee and standing up to pace toward the windows a little as he spoke.

"She doesn't deserve to be locked in a cage," I said firmly.

"And think ye Mrs. Beckett would ask the same thing fer you?" he asked, turning about and pacing my way again.

I sighed heavily. "No, you're right, she wouldn't, but that doesn't mean it isn't the right thing to do," I replied.

He nodded. "Aye, that might be how you feel about it, but unfortunately I am disinclined to allow Mrs. Beckett any liberty aboard me ship after what her husband and his brother did. She'll remain in the brig until we can be rid of her."

I really didn't want to say what I was about to, but I just couldn't see leaving Cornelia in the dark, damp brig alone, while I had a cabin to myself. "I'm afraid that I must decline your, offer, Captain. If she remains in the brig, so must I."

"That be quite noble of ye, Miss Gray," he said, his tone colored with the tiniest bit of sarcasm.

"It's called self preservation," I replied. "I can only imagine what she'd be like if she found out I had a cabin while she is in a cage."

The captain stopped his steady pacing directly behind my chair. "Very well, if that's what you want...'tis a shame, though."

"Why is that?" I was foolish enough to ask.

He set a hand on the back of my chair, and leaned a little closer. "I much prefer you without the sheep smell."

I recall that as it turned out, despite the fact that I had all intentions of doing my best to show my solidarity with Cornelia, I didn't end up back in the brig with her for long, although through no fault of my own.

Barbossa had me escorted by Hickmott back to check on Turk again, and then back to the brig to once again join my companion.

Cornelia looked up as she heard the clang of the door shutting, probably about to make some cutting remark or other, but when she took one look at the dress I was wearing, and my tidied-up appearance, she came undone.

The only thing I can say in her defense is that she'd been allowed no time at all outside the brig, she was still in her chemise, and she was still dirty, although not as filthy as I had been, covered in Turk's blood.

And it was her very expensive new dress that I was wearing.

She was on her feet in an instant. "Where did you get that?" she demanded.

"Barbossa gave it to me out of one of your trunks," I said, being honest but trying to focus the blame more on him.

"And you took it?" she asked with incredulous indignation. "How dare you wear that! It's fresh from London, and I was going to wear it when we got there."

"Cornelia, things have changed a little. It's not as if we're going to be going to London any time soon," I said, trying to reason with her. "Besides, my dress was all torn and soaked with blood..."

"At least you have a dress," she cried, becoming irate. "Look at me, reduced to standing here in my underwear while you parade around in my stolen clothes!" She plucked at the sleeve of the green dress.

"Cornelia, I am not parading around and I'll return the dress if we ever get off this ship," I said, really becoming upset with her pettiness.

"You'll return it now," she said, grabbing me by the arm. "Give it to me!"

A small struggle ensued, and I have to say that I didn't really feel sorry for Cornelia when I pushed her away from me and she fell on her rump on the floor. Unfortunately for both of us, it was a final blow to her dignity, and she leaped to her feet and began shrieking at me and trying to take the dress again.

I was able to fend her off, but the commotion we caused, especially Cornelia's irrational screeching, had begun waking pirates not on the late night watch once again. It wasn't long before Mr. Harlow and Mr. Bellamy appeared to put a stop to the noise, and their arrival caused me to look at where they'd started to unlock the door.

Cornelia took advantage of my momentary distraction, and landed a resounding slap across my face. "You bitch!" she hissed. "I'm going to make sure that Charles sees you hung for consorting with pirates," she snarled.

It was her statement even more than the blow that shocked me. "Cornelia, surely you can't be serious –I merely tried to help an injured..."

"Just you wait," she said, menacingly, trying to strike me again, but at that point Harlow and Bellamy had managed to get the door to the cell open and Harlow grabbed her roughly while she screamed.

Harlow jerked his head toward the door. "Captain wants them on deck," he said gruffly.

Bellamy nodded, but I would daresay he looked a little apologetic as he took my arm and led me up the stairs behind where Harlow was having all he could do to drag the hysterical Mrs. Beckett up to the deck.

Barbossa stormed out on deck, hatless and in his shirtsleeves, obviously unhappy at having also been disturbed, and Harlow shoved Cornelia at another pirate to restrain her as most of the crew had found its way on deck. He went and had a word, I surmised, about what he had witnessed in the brig.

Barbossa looked us over, jaw set firmly and anger evident in his eyes. I remember him frowning for a moment as he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Obviously we were causing him more than lack of sleep.

The men were riled, tired of my arrogant companion keeping them up with mindless shrieking, and the only thing that silenced Cornelia at that point was the fact that a lot of them were calling to cut her throat or make her walk the plank.

Actually, as I recall, they were calling for both of us to have our throats cut or be forced to walk the plank.

Finally, letting out a frustrated sigh, Barbossa appeared to have arrived at some sort of a decision, and he quickly crossed the deck to where I stood. During the commotion he asked me a question in an angry whisper, grabbing me by the arm and staring me down. His three words made my very blood run cold.

"Can ye swim?"

**A/N:** As far as the Becketts go, Barbossa's reason for revenge isn't integral to this story, but it will come up in late chapters of NBHP. Same thing concerning where Barbossa learns Portuguese -it's in NHBP. If you haven't done so already, get yerself on over to Naught But a Humble Pirate and read it! ;)

Barbossa, (while showing off a bit) tells Madeline, when she realizes he speaks Portuguese, that he only speaks a little, and he understands more than he speaks. I think I've gotten the grammar correct, but my computer doesn't have all the unique punctuation marks. When she asks him if he speaks French, he says "of course."

My take on Barbossa is that he has a wry sense of humor, after hearing him tell Elizabeth that Sao Feng, "is very much like meself, absent me merciful nature and sense of fair play" and when he says "waste not" after he cuts her hand. I think he's smart, wiley, and has a sense of honor, despite his 'profession.' And, I think he does like to be the center of attention –look at the scenes where he delivers speeches to his crew and the Brethren court!


	7. Chapter 7

I realized that I haven't put up a disclaimer in either story in a while, so just in case you weren't sure, Barbossa is not mine, and I am not making any money from borrowing him. He's currently indebted to Disney, and remains theirs by an accord they've apparently reached. Madeline, Cornelia, the _Rogue Wave_, Turk , Bellamy and Harlow are mine, and I thank all of you for reading so I can share them with you!

I really like this chapter, and I hope you do too!

--

**Chapter Seven ~*~**

--

I can only imagine the look of terror on my face at that moment as I met Barbossa's hard stare, and feeling overwhelmed with panic, tried to fight back tears of fear as I shook my head.

He said nothing, but released me and turned to face the crew, holding up a hand for silence, which he very quickly got.

"Gentlemen," he began, calling out across the gathered company, "'twould seem we have a difficulty at hand. It appears as though our guests have become more trouble than they're worth."

A chorus of shouts of agreement and threats again broke out among the crew, and I caught another sympathetic look, this time from young Hickmott.

Barbossa held up a hand and had silence again. "If it were up to me, I'd be well clear of the matter and make for smoother sailin', but 'tis up to you to decide as well."

The captain then paced back in forth in front of the crew, all of our attention riveted to him. "If we lose our hostages we lose our ransom, and 'twill put a dent in yer payday," he said wryly, causing a murmur of brief discussion to ripple through the crew.

Barbossa continued to pace for a moment in silence, appearing thoughtful, but I knew he'd already made up his mind about what was going to be done. Wiley and smart, he was letting the crew feel as if they were actually in on that decision.

"'Tis a dilemma fer certain, lads, but consider the fat prize we took by unexpected fair chance today." Here he gave them a roguish grin. "'Twould go a fair ways to make up fer the loss of a little ransom money, aye?"

The crew, fed up with noisy women, obviously agreed. "AYE!"

The crew may not have seen it, but since I stood closer to Barbossa, I saw the small self-satisfied smile as he walked a few paces away from the crew. He was playing them like a well-tuned violin and he knew it.

He turned back and addressed the rest of the pirates on board. "I have a proposal that I'd be willin' to put forth fer yer consideration," he said, making a grand show of deliberating over the matter. " I say we be done with this one." He pointed at Cornelia, causing her to gasp. "No ransom is worth puttin' up with the likes of her!"

A rowdy chorus of assent rose up again.

"But that's not to say we shouldn't make a little sport of it!" Barbossa cried, riling up the enthusiasm and the unity of the crew.

"AYE!" The cry went up across the deck.

"I say at dawn, we make her walk the plank!" Barbossa shouted, followed by another violent outcry of concurrence.

"What about this one?" The same large pirate that had threatened to cut out Cornelia's tongue stepped forward, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me out of Bellamy's grip.

Barbossa looked me over for a moment as if he'd only just considered the matter, and then a wicked smile slowly spread across his lips. "Aye," he said slyly, stepping before me and reaching out to toy with a lock of my hair that had come undone while I'd been struggling with Cornelia. "What of her, indeed?"

He made a very obvious point of looking me over in a way that said he was seriously considering parting me from my dress, and he wanted to be sure I wasn't the only one who knew it.

He let go of my hair and turned back to the crew. "Gents," he said, speaking as if they were all in on some private joke, "ye all be well aware of me weakness for gold..." The crew laughed, and not in a pleasant way, completely understanding Barbossa was referring to my blond tresses.

"I be of a mind not to let this one go to waste," he said with an arrogant smirk. The crew began whistling and jeering at me until Barbossa held up his hand again.

"So, this be the decision," Barbossa called out. "The Beckett wench walks the plank at dawn, the doctor'll stay fer me own amusement, and because ye already know that it's share and share alike on this ship...I'll give up my share of the plunder from the prize today to split among ye in trade fer the ransom we lost from our hostages."

He already knew it was a battle he'd won. "What say ye?"he called out.

"AYE!" The answer thundered across the deck.

"Very well, it be settled. Mr. Harlow, take the wench back to the brig." They dragged Cornelia off screaming louder than ever. "Tie her and gag her if need be to shut that bitch up!"

"The rest of you I want back on deck at dawn!" he commanded, effectively dismissing them. He then turned back to me. "Do I need to have you tied up and gagged, Miss Gray, or will ye come quietly?" He glanced toward his cabin suggestively.

I never had a chance to answer as he grabbed me cruelly by the wrist and dragged me through the door, slamming it behind me and locking it.

I recall that moment was one of the few in my life that I remember actually beginning to tremble with fear as Barbossa grabbed my shoulders, his fingers biting into my skin. He shoved me roughly up against the door with a thud, causing me to cry out a little. He held me there, looming over me and leaning closer until his face was an inch or two from mine.

His eyes narrowed as he stared me down and he spoke in a hushed tone. "You owe me," he snarled, and then he released me and turned away, crossing to the table and agitatedly slamming a fist into it.

I jumped where I was still plastered against the locked cabin door, fighting to get my trembling hands under control and to keep back the tears of fear and frustration. I wasn't being very successful, and although I managed to remain silent, tears eventually trailed down my face.

Barbossa, still pacing and muttering something under his breath that I think might have been in Portuguese, turned and caught sight of the fact that I was still huddled against the door like a cornered mouse. He heaved an exasperated sigh and with a great roll of his eyes, addressed me, making an effort to keep at least some of the agitation out of his voice.

"Fer Pete's sake, woman, pull yerself together!" He drew out a chair from the table and pointed at it. "Sit down."

I complied, trying to compose myself, and he flung himself into his own chair, pinching the bridge of his nose again with his eyes closed. After a minute he opened them again, and letting his hand fall heavily to the table, spoke.

"Allow me to speak plainly, Miss Gray."

I was in no position to argue, and I nodded silently.

"Ye must understand by now, that although this be my ship, and I be her captain, that I must acquiesce at times to the crew's wishes, since there be fifty of them and one of me?" he asked.

"Or at least let them think you are," I said, mindful of how he easily manipulated the entire company on deck.

A brief half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I see you understand things better'n I thought ye did. You understand that in order to keep you from drownin' or havin' that lovely throat cut open...or worse," he added ominously, " I had to toss the crew a bone, and let them have Mrs. Beckett."

"Why did you do it?" I asked, wanting an explanation once my heart had stopped pounding quite so hard.

Barbossa gestured impatiently at me and sat back heavily in his chair. "She's a fuckin' pain in the arse!"

"No," I said, "I meant why didn't you give us both over to the crew?"

"Oh," he replied, finally understanding what I was asking. "That be simple, Miss Gray. 'Twould not be honorable to toss you overboard after what ye did fer Turk, especially since ye can't swim. I need you to continue to look after him, even though his chances be slim. It's a debt I owe him from long ago, and I always honor my debts."

"So, why is it I am indebted to you?" I asked, doing my best to keep any accusation out of my tone.

"You helped Turk, I helped you –makes us even, except for the fact that I just gave up a lot of swag to the crew to ensure their compliance...means you owe me," he reasoned out.

"And how does the fact that you've put me through hell for three days after kidnapping me factor in?" I asked quietly, staring at the table.

Barbossa frowned. "Ah, there is that... puts us on even footing again in my book."

"My book as well," I said, beginning to understand a little more about the way the man's mind worked.

"Very well," Barbossa said, the last of his anger dissipating, "shall we come to some understandin' fer the moment?"

I nodded.

He thought it over for a moment and then put forth his proposal. "While you are on board the _Rogue_," he started, "ye'll not make a nuisance of yerself, ye'll tend to Turk until he's better or he dies, and act as me ship's surgeon should the need arise with any other of the crew. Ye'll follow any orders I give you sharply."

"And in return?" I asked, trying to pay careful attention to the details of his proposal. I was all too familiar with the consequences of Captain Flint's ill-fated agreement with the pirate.

"In return, the cabin I spoke of will be yers, and ye'll be free to come and go as you please, providin' you don't interfere with the operations of the ship."

"What about the crew?" I asked, concerned that some of them might prefer to see me go the way of my unfortunate companion, among other things.

"No member of me crew will lay a finger on you while you yet be bound by our agreement, and Davy Jones'll have himself another hand before the mast of the _Dutchman_ if any one of them defies me orders on that point," Barbossa answered sternly.

"And what of my release – when Turk either lives or dies?" I asked.

"Then we'll put you ashore unharmed at the next suitable port," he said, amused with the fact that I was trying to tie up any loose ends.

I thought it over carefully.

"Do we have an accord, Doctor?" Barbossa asked pleasantly.

Something didn't feel quite right at that point, but I was anxious to ensure my own safety as dawn was fast approaching. "I suppose there's no way that I can convince you to spare Cornelia?" I asked, making one last attempt to plead for her not to be handed over to the crew.

"Out of the question," he said with an air of finality. "The best I can do is see that they not tie her hands and hope she can swim."

"We're miles from anywhere..." I began to protest.

"We be less than a day out of Port Royal, and in well-traveled shipping lanes," he answered me impatiently. "'Tis better odds than having her throat cut."

I realized at that point there was no more that I could do, and although I bore a heavy burden of guilt, I knew that it was really Cornelia that had brought her own fate upon herself.

"Are we agreed, Miss Gray?" Barbossa asked.

"Yes," I finally answered. "Agreed." I reached to shake the hand he proffered to seal our deal, and I was surprised to find his strong fingers were not as rough as I expected.

Our business concluded, I felt a very slight degree of relief and am sure I looked completely exhausted. I was about to ask if I might make use of the cabin he had spoken of, but the captain spoke first.

"I'll have Mr. Harlow see to your arrangements in the morning," he informed me.

"In the morning?" I asked incredulously. "I thought our agreement was that I wouldn't have to return to the brig?"

"It is," he said, and I didn't like the way he said it. "Ye'll be stayin' here tonight," he added, and I felt like someone had poured ice into my stomach.

"Here?" I gasped, not understanding where things had gone wrong.

"Aye," he said casually. "The crew thinks me to be busy havin' me way with you this night," he explained, "and I'd hate to disappoint them. 'Twould hurt my credibility later if I were to let you go before mornin'."

I recall being fairly certain that I might actually faint at that moment.

Barbossa laughed wickedly, obviously enjoying the torment he was putting me through. "Miss Gray," he said, still chuckling to himself, "what be yer given name?"

"Madeline," I answered hoarsely.

"Well, Madeline, as temptin' as the thought may be...especially since you smell so lovely now," he said, standing again and walking behind my chair, letting his fingers trail across my hair, "'twould be dishonorable to treat you that way after ye've acted in such an upstandin' manner on my ship."

He let go of my hair. "But..." he continued, "I do have me reputation with the crew to uphold, and so ye'll remain in this cabin until dawn."

I was getting angry and that anger emboldened me a little. " I shouldn't have to stay here. Surely your crew will understand that we have reached an agreement and you can let me leave without harming your credibility?"

"How would our agreement play into it?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You agreed that no one would lay a hand on me," I said, up in arms. "The crew must understand that agreement is binding, and that you aren't therefore allowed to..."

I trailed off as he laughed softly again. "Our accord specified that no member of the crew would be allowed to lay a hand on you," he repeated.

"Exactly my point," I began, but he cut me off again when he placed a hand on the table in front of me and leaned closer to make his own point.

"Madeline, have ye not noticed that I be the _captain_ of this fine ship?" he asked, a wicked smile crossing his face.

Meaning _not_ a member of the crew, I realized with horror. I suddenly concluded he'd left himself a tidy little loophole that was not in my best interest, and I began to worry that our pact was not as thorough as I had thought.

"You should get some rest," he said, nodding at the ornately carved wooden screen that stood off to one corner. Evidently his bunk was on the other side. "Dawn will be here quickly."

"And you?" I asked warily.

He walked over to the case of books and maps, and pulled a volume off the shelf. "I promise to be a good lad and stay over here," he said, holding the book up to indicate that he intended to read at the table.

I rose without another word and walked over to the Asian screen, shooting one last distrustful glance in his direction.

He gave me the most innocent look he could muster, and held the book up again for my benefit, and then propped one foot up on his knee and began to read the page he flipped open to, pointedly ignoring me.

I returned the favor and escaped behind the screen, reluctantly plunking myself down on the green blanket that covered the captain's bed. I sat there for a long time with Cornelia on my mind; the only sounds in the still night an occasional creak from the ship's timbers, or the 'whisp' of a page being turned as Barbossa evidently continued to read across the room.

Exhausted, but gripped by extreme anxiety every time I thought of Cornelia's fate and the fact that I was going to be left alone on the pirate ship, I curled up on my side, convinced that I would never be able to sleep.

I underestimated my exhaustion, and suddenly found myself bolting upright in alarm when I heard my name. I looked up to find Barbossa standing there, watching me expectantly. "Dawn," was all he said.

He was again dressed in full pirate regalia – frockcoat, sword, and dagger, and that damn hat with the ostrich plume perched at a jaunty angle once more atop the bandanna that swept his long hair back.

I stood up, instantly awake, and unconsciously began smoothing out my skirts before heading out on deck.

"Don't bother," he said, a hint of amusement at my fussing over my dress in his voice. He stepped forward and pulled my dress down off of one shoulder a little, and reaching up behind my head with both hands, quickly undid the remnants of the braid I'd been wearing my hair in, letting it fall loose to my shoulders. He placed a hand on top of my head and then mussed up my hair just a little.

"'Twill look more convincin'," he explained, and then stepped aside to let me go to the door first. He unlocked it, and throwing the door open wide, grabbed my arm. I swear I thought I saw the man wink at me as he dragged me out on deck in front of the waiting crew and a very ashen Cornelia.

I was beginning to tire of the catcalls that I had to endure from the men, and I resolved to request a ban if I had the chance to negotiate any further deals with the captain.

Worse than the jeers from the pirates was the look I was getting from Cornelia. Despite the fact that I looked at that moment for all the world like a woman who had just unwillingly spent the night in the captain's bed, there was not even the slightest hint of sympathy for me in her eyes.

And although I certainly had the greatest sympathy for her and tried to convey it in the look I shared with her across the deck, I was met only with contempt and hatred in return.

When the pirates had the plank rigged up firmly, Barbossa said nothing, but merely nodded, setting the crew into action. Just as they grabbed her, Cornelia shrieked one last time in my direction. "Pray I don't make it, Madeline, because I'll see to it you're hung within an hour of setting foot on Jamaican soil again, you traitor!"

I have to give her credit for putting up an impressive fight, and in the end, Cornelia did not end up walking the plank. I watched, horrified, standing next to Barbossa, who laughed heartily, as it took three strong men to pick her up and bodily heave her over the railing.

A collective cheer went up as soon as the splash was heard, and it drowned out most of the remainder of what the flailing woman was shrieking as the ship left her treading water and cursing every last soul on board.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight ~*~**

--

Cornelia was gone, and there was absolutely nothing more that I could have done about it, but that didn't stop me from being plagued by guilt. The only things that served to temper any remorse I felt about her fate, were the awful threats she had made against me irrationally.

While I prayed for the very unlikely possibility that she might survive and be rescued, I knew that it was much more likely that she would succumb to exhaustion, or hypothermia, or even to sharks.

Barbossa made good on his promise that morning, and after informing the crew in no uncertain terms that he would consider it a personal insult and smear against his honor if any man on board so much as looked at me the wrong way, and then likewise, informing them of exactly how he'd handle any violators of his agreement in his typical colorful fashion, he instructed Harlow and Bellamy to bring a cot to the cabin, as well as the contents of both of Cornelia's chests and my medical bag.

They went to comply with his instructions, and he followed along as I went to check on Turk. I changed the dressing on both his leg and on the site of the amputation, noting that the discharge from both still looked favorable in color. Turk showed no sign, however, of reviving so far. His pupils were still pinpoint under his lids when I lifted them, and although his chest sounded clear when I laid my ear against him, I was still concerned about the shallow nature of his breathing.

Barbossa watched me without comment until I was through and washed my hands in the basin of water Hickmott had brought in. Without a towel, I patted my hands dry on the skirt of the expensive green dress, and summed up my exam for the captain.

"So, no better, but no worse?" he asked.

"Essentially," I confirmed. "It's too soon to tell if the wounds will fester or not. If they do, more than likely the gangrene will kill him."

"When will you know?" Barbossa asked.

"Another day, probably two...if he lives that long," I replied, surprised at how tired I sounded.

Barbossa nodded, and turning on his heel, was gone without another word, along with Hickmott.

I recall how strange it felt to stand there, knowing that the bargain I'd struck allowed for me to move about the ship without an escort. At a loss for what I should do next, I finally went to check out my new living arrangements.

Another glorified closet, my cabin had just enough room for a cot up against the wall, upon which Bellamy had thoughtfully left me a blanket and small pillow, and the two chests of clothes lined up side by side against the opposite wall. There was enough room left for me to walk between the trunks and the bed, and that was about it. I was glad to see that my medical bag sat upon the foot of the cot.

The lock had been broken on the second chest, and weary but curious, I sat on the edge of the cot and reached over to pull up the lid of the second trunk. More clothes, shoes and accessories were packed in the chest, as well as a small flat wooden box. I removed it and sat it on the cot next to me.

When I flipped the top open, curious what Cornelia had packed in the small box, I found several small bottles carefully packed in a blue velvet lining, as well as a small matching velvet bag. The bag held several very expensive pairs of earrings and two necklaces that I would probably work a lifetime to pay for. I quickly hid those all at the bottom of the trunk in a shoe, hoping to keep them for possible bargaining chips down the road.

The bottles were clearly perfume, and with plenty of time on my hands to kill, I opened and sniffed each bottle.

The first smelled of roses, heady and a little too strong for my liking. I re-capped it quickly and replaced it. The second smelled of lemon verbena, and although I liked it, and probably would have worn it at home, somehow its bright sunny scent seemed out of place on a pirate ship. The third bottle was very elegant, and I could discern from the inscription in gold on the label that it was fine French lavender, and I opened it.

It was exquisite, and I have to confess, although it was a completely senseless and frivolous thing to do, I actually dabbed some on my wrist. I sighed, replaced the stopper, and put the perfume away, feeling distraught at that moment about what had happened to Cornelia.

The continuous stress and emotional upheaval that I'd been experiencing since first being dragged off the _Essex_ caught up with me at that moment, and as I finally had a tiny bit of time and space to myself, I lay down on the unmade bed and had a good long cry.

--

I must have slept for hours without realizing it, overcome as I was with sheer exhaustion. I looked around blearily for a moment when I awoke, and then realized that someone was knocking at my cabin door.

I'm quite sure the imprint of the edge of the cot still remained on my cheek as I opened the door to face young Mr. Hickmott, who apologized for disturbing me.

"No, it's quite alright," I said kindly to him. "Is it still morning, or afternoon?" I asked.

"It's quite late in the afternoon, ma'am –nearly evening really," the young pirate replied.

"Damn," I said, not realizing I'd spoken the word out loud. "I should check on Turk again right away," I said, quickly coming to my senses. The young man looked at me in a strange way.

"What's that smell?" he asked, sniffing the room a little. "It's very nice."

I looked at him questioningly for a moment and then brought my hand up to my face and sniffed. It was the lavender perfume that I'd handled last. Evidently some of Provence's best, it was meant to last more than a few hours. "Perfume," I answered.

"Perfume?" the boy asked, puzzled obviously by why I'd wear perfume on a pirate ship.

"I must have gotten some on me when I was looking through the trunk," I lied.

"Oh." The lad seemed to buy my explanation.

"I'll be right along to have a look at Turk. Let me just pull myself together a bit," I said, trying to shoo Hickmott back out the door.

"That's fine, ma'am," he replied, "but that's not why I'm here." He continued after he saw the questioning look I gave him. "Cap'n wants to see you in an hour or so, he said."

I made no effort to hide my exasperated sigh. "What does he want now?" I asked.

"He figured you'd be checking on Turk soon, and he's asked if you'd dine with him when you're finished," Hickmott reported dutifully.

"I suppose I really don't have the option of turning him down, do I?" I asked the boy, already knowing the answer.

Hickmott smiled at me, thinking me to be joking. "No, ma'am. I wouldn't think so."

I heaved another sigh. "Very well," I said, " please tell the captain I will be along once I have finished with my patient."

Hickmott hurried off to deliver my message and I closed the door to try to do something with my hair, which still pretty much looked at that point, after sleeping on it, like I had actually had a roll in the hay with a pirate, so to speak. I managed to comb it out, and pinned it up in a simple twist with a couple of combs I found in Cornelia's trunk.

I sat down again, wondering if there was any possibility she was still alive, and came to the realization that these were probably my clothes at this point. Trying to fight back the guilt, I focused myself on her threats to see me hang, in order to avoid more tears, and went across to the makeshift medical ward to check on Turk.

I went over him from head to toe as before, finding nothing different, and I changed the bandage on his arm again.

I passed a couple of pirates near the companionway, who gave me unpleasant looks, and I wished that I could be rid of the lot of them. I would have loved to have seen them all tossed overboard. Except for young Hickmott, I remember thinking. Or Bellamy, he'd been pleasant to me. Well, and not Harlow either, he seemed a bit gruff, but more than not a decent fellow.

Inspiration struck me as I realized the only pirates I didn't bear ill will towards were the ones I'd gotten to know a little, and I resolved at that moment to make it a point to get to know more of the pirates, hoping that they might be less inclined to do me harm if I became a person to them and not just 'the woman' on board their ship.

Whether it would work or not, I didn't know, but I wasn't going to sit by and hope that my future rested solely on the flimsy pact that I'd made with Barbossa.

Feeling a little more positive after some sleep and making my resolution to take the matter of my fate more into my own hands, I knocked on the door to the great cabin, determined that I could get through dinner with the captain well enough.

I remember reaching to brush a stray strand of hair out of my face, and as I did so, the scent of lavender caught my attention, sending me into a minor panic. The perfume had not worn off, even after I'd washed up when I finished with Turk, and I cursed the French in their own language for making the stuff last so long.

I did not want to have dinner with a pirate and smell as if had dolled myself up for the occasion. I stood there outside the door, licked my thumb, and tried scrubbing the spot on my wrist where the offending substance was. It only served to make my other hand smell like lavender, and I stood there facing the fact that I had no choice but to enter, once I'd heard Barbossa's voice reply to my knock.

I figured it was probably Cornelia getting back at me for trying on her perfume, and I took a deep breath and went in.

--

What I hadn't realized until I opened the door of the cabin, was just exactly how hungry I was. Having spent the first day without food, the second two on prisoner's rations, and sleeping through most of the present day, I suddenly became aware of just how wonderful dinner smelled. I didn't know what it was, and I really didn't care. I only hoped at that point there was plenty of it.

Although I should have found it strange that there were candles lit on the table in the cabin, and that I was about to share an intimate dinner for two with a notorious pirate, I had been through an awful lot in the previous four days, and I was beginning to take the strangeness in stride.

At first I thought the cabin to be empty even though I'd sworn I'd heard the captain's voice from outside. I became aware of the sound of something being moved around in the corner of the cabin, and I peered around the edge of the table to find Barbossa crouched down in the corner with his back to me, rummaging around inside a short cabinet that lined part of the wall.

He seemed to be intent on finding something and evidently didn't hear me walk up behind him, curious as to what he was doing. I guess I startled him when I spoke from only a few feet away.

"Captain?" I said, the same time he evidently located what he was looking for and cried, 'aha!'

Barbossa started and tried to stand up quickly. He didn't clear the inside edge of the cabinet and thumped his head soundly, causing his hat to fall off as he dropped instantly back to one knee and grabbed his head.

"Merda!" he exclaimed under his breath, swearing in Portuguese, and he climbed unsteadily to his feet, wincing as he glared at me and pressed his palm tightly against his head.

"What are you doin', sneakin' up on me like that?" he demanded, irritated.

"I'm sorry," I said, finding I was actually trying not to laugh. "I thought you knew I was there."

"Obviously not," he sneered, still rubbing his head.

I reached down and retrieved his hat from where it had fallen and held it out to him as a peace offering. He took it and perched it back on his head as I spoke. "What were you doing down there?"

"Lookin' fer this," Barbossa answered, very carefully retrieving his hard won discovery. It appeared to be a bottle of wine. "I thought ye might be inclined to drink this more than rum," he said, handing over the bottle.

It was a very fine and very expensive French wine.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, extremely curious what a pirate was doing with a bottle such as that.

"Ye'd be less likely to drink it if I tell you," he said.

He took the bottle back out of my hands and opened it, as he did everything else, apparently –with his gun. I don't mean to imply that he shot the bottle of wine. He actually used the butt of his pistol, and with a sharp rap, snapped the top third of the neck of the bottle clear off.

Barbossa indicated that I should sit and make myself comfortable at the table, while he poured two goblets of wine. I couldn't help but notice the scar at his wrist again when he reached across to set one on the table in front of me.

"How did you get that?" I asked, voicing the question in my head out loud before I'd realized I'd done so.

He looked surprised that I would ask such a question, although not offended. "This?" he asked, drawing up his sleeve. There lay a scar some four or five inches long that was the result of an injury that had obviously occurred some time ago. "'Twas a close call with death that gave me this," he replied, looking at me expectantly.

I could tell he was waiting for me to try the wine, and I sniffed it lightly and tried a sip. I recall that it was marvelous.

"It's lovely," I said, setting my goblet back down. "As fine as anything I've had, even when I was in France."

"Good." Barbossa seemed pleased, and sat down in his own chair.

Still wondering where he'd gotten the French wine, I realized how little I knew about the man across the table from me, and it suddenly dawned on me that Barbossa was probably the most important pirate that I should try to get to know. If anyone on the ship had control of my fate, it was him, and I resolved to try and find out as much as I could about who he was.

"So," I began pleasantly, a little distracted by something that smelled wonderful under the covered platter on the table, "you haven't said how you got that scar."

"You want to know?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised that I would ask such a thing.

I nodded.

"Yer serious?" he asked, holding his hand out for my plate, which I handed over.

I nodded again.

"This be from a long time past," he commented, handing my plate back over after serving us both what looked like some sort of chicken. I had all I could do to appear casual about eating, but apparently he was waiting for me to pronounce judgment on dinner as well, and he said nothing else until I had tried it.

While it might seem completely fantastic to say it, I think the best meal I have ever had in my life was that first night I had dinner with Barbossa on board the _Rogue Wave_. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I'd been half starved for three days, or perhaps it was due to the fact that the current cook on board, a Jamaican of Arawak and French descent, was a genius in the kitchen, and managed to work small culinary miracles even in the galley of a pirate ship.

Dinner was chicken stuffed with currants and cinnamon, served with calabaza squash that had been roasted with red grapes and sage.

"Who made this?" I asked, after trying a bite of dinner. "This is wonderful!"

Barbossa looked pleased and a little smug. "That would be Jerome, the ship's cook," he explained. "He's completely useless when it comes to piratin', but ye can see why we keep him on board, equal share of plunder an' all."

I nodded in understanding, and in an effort to keep myself from wolfing down my food, returned to making conversation. "So, you were saying about your arm?" I asked, prodding him to keep speaking.

He scrutinized me carefully as he ate for a moment, and then apparently decided that he would answer. "Alright," he said, "I'll tell you," and he began to tell me a tale of when he was younger.

--

"'Twas a dark night," Barbossa said, in order to begin the tale of how he got the scar on his arm for me, " and me ship lay becalmed off the shore off an island, not far from Nassau port."

I listened attentively, although I must confess that I was more than a little preoccupied with dinner, hungry as I had been.

"She'd not been well supplied when we caught her, and 'fore we could sail 'er home to Port Royal, we needed better food and water."

"Port Royal?" I asked, interrupting him unintentionally. "Wouldn't that have been dangerous for a pirate?"

"Aye, now it would," Barbossa explained, "but at the time things still be in flux enough that pirates were tolerated better'n they are at present."

"Besides," he said, giving me a wry smile, "this be before I was officially called pirate."

"Officially?" I asked, helping myself to more chicken.

"Aye, Madeline. Privateer I was then," he explained, "but privateer and pirate be but two sides of the same coin, and a flip of the coin be all it takes at times to change yer luck an' yer name."

"I see," I said, thinking it hard to imagine him abiding by any rules but his own.

Barbossa returned to his own dinner for a few moments, and I waited patiently for him to continue, which he did after another sip of wine. "As I was tellin' ye, we needed better supplies, an' six of us went ashore fer water and fer game. I knew the island from another venture, and knew where the best water be."

"What did you hunt?" I asked, interested in where his story was going. "Goats?"

"Aye, goats and wild pig," Barbossa replied. "Lost one of me men to the boar we caught. Savaged 'im terribly 'til we brought the beast down."

"A pig?" I asked, unfamiliar at the time with the difference between the domesticated livestock and the wild island pigs Barbossa spoke of.

He nodded. "Small an' fierce they be, and I'd face a half dozen of the King's finest 'fore I'd face one of 'em unarmed." He took another sip of wine.

"Is that how you...?" I asked, indicating his arm and thinking he'd probably been injured by the boar.

"Nay, lass," Barbossa answered me, looking a bit distant as he did so. "Were it naught but the boar I faced, I might yet have avoided this," he said, holding up his arm briefly to indicate the scar, "and a few others ye've not seen yet."

I stopped in mid-chew as I caught his insinuation, and frowned at him as he merely laughed at the fact that I was uncomfortable with what he'd been implying. I would have thought him to be flirting with me, if he'd been anyone else but the infamous pirate that sat across from me.

"Turk would tell ye himself, were he awake," Barbossa said, changing the subject back to his tale, "about the monster that came out of that dark night."

Still put off by his previous comment, I spoke up. "I'm quite familiar with monsters that come out of the night, thank you," I said a bit stiffly, and gave him a meaningful look.

Not one to be easily put off, Barbossa gave me a pointed look back and leaned a little closer across the table. "Mayhap not familiar enough," he said, steel blue eyes meeting mine, and less sarcasm to his tone than I'd expected. The corner of his mouth twitched into a wry smile, and he watched me become a bit flustered for a moment before looking away and continuing the story.

"As I was sayin'," he went on, while I tried to compose myself and returned to my dinner, "we carried the goats and the water back to the ship, and Turk and I returned fer the pig we'd killed, while the crew made ready to sail."

"Seems as though Turk an' I weren't the only ones as wanted the pig," he continued. "I was sayin' somethin' to Turk when I heard it."

"Heard what?" I asked, caught up in his story again.

Barbossa's voice grew quieter and more intense. "The hiss," he said. "A rattlin', thrummin' sound that seemed to come from everywhere at once."

I waited for him to continue, anxious for an explanation of the sound he'd described.

"I didn't see it 'til after I was in the water," Barbossa said. "The game it wanted, but grabbed me leg as I got close to the pig, and pulled me into the swamp nearby. Would've done me in then and there if he'd had a better grip, but I managed to kick free of his jaws, and lost me boot in the process."

"What was it?" I asked, completely enthralled with the pirate's story.

"Biggest, meanest 'gater yeh'd ever imagine," Barbossa replied. "Came back after me, jaws snappin' shut and eyes glowin' in the moonlight like he be possessed. Grabbed me again, gettin' a good hold that time, but I'd not been sittin' on me arse while he charged again, an' he met with a taste of steel as well as of me leg."

"Beast dragged me under again, 'fore Turk could get to us," Barbossa said, looking distant and appearing to be reliving the moment. "Started to clamp down on me arm, and would've taken it with him, I reckon, if it hadn't been the hand that held this." He patted the dagger at his hip.

"Let go sharply when it cut him, but tore the bloody hell out of me wrist with a fang as I yanked it back. Blood be everywhere in the water, his and mine," Barbossa said, and he paused for a minute, contemplating the scar on his arm.

"So, what happened to you then?" I asked anxiously.

"Ye sound a bit concerned about me, Miss Gray," he said, looking up from where he'd been eyeing his wrist.

He had that smirk on his face again, and I grew a bit defensive. "Interested, is all," I replied.

Barbossa took a sip of wine and set the goblet back down. "Interested'll do," he said quietly, but I wasn't entirely sure that he didn't still have just enough sarcasm in his voice to imply that he meant not only his story.

"Well, let's just say I had the last word," he replied, wrapping up his tale. "Managed to sink the blade behind his skull up to the hilt 'fore he grabbed me again, and we both fell still in the water."

"Turk managed to drag me bloody carcass out, and the great ox carted me back to the ship."

"So, you killed the alligator?" I asked, pressing for details.

"Aye," Barbossa answered with a grin. "Ate 'im too, the bastard," he laughed, "but I kept a piece of him in return for the piece of me he'd had."

"Really?" I asked.

Barbossa looked a bit cocky at that point. "Aye, here," he said, and he tipped his head a little to show off the earring that hung from his right ear, and I realized that it was the fang of an alligator.

"The scar be nothin' to the one I have on me leg," Barbossa said cheerfully, as he returned to the last of his dinner.

"So, is that why...you..." I hesitated, not wanting to make him self-conscious about the fact that it was so apparent that he limped.

"Walk a bit unevenly?" he asked wryly, obviously not caring in the least.

"Yes," I replied with a smile.

He gave me an uncontrived one of his own. "Nay, lass, it's not," he said, "but that be entirely another story."

--

**A/N:** The chicken recipe is a late 16th century one, in case you are interested.

Barbossa was most likely attacked by an American crocodile. There were actually two attacks reported on people in 2007 even though there are probably less than 2000 of them left!

What can I say? Crocodiles evidently like the taste of pirates! ;)

From NOVA

**American Crocodile**  
_Crocodylus acutus_

**Diet:** Hatchlings eat aquatic and terrestrial insects; juveniles live on fish, frogs, turtles, birds, small mammals, and aquatic invertebrates; adults consume larger mammals and birds as well as the food groups eaten by their young.

**Habitat:** Freshwater and brackish coastal waters

**Distribution:** Southern Florida, southern Central America, northernmost South America, and various Caribbean islands, including the Cayman Islands, Cuba, Hispaniola, Jamaica, Margarita, Martinique, and Trinidad

**Conservation:** Threatened by hunting for their high-quality skin and by habitat destruction

**Size:** 20 feet or more

Yes, that's right...twenty feet...


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine ~*~**

**--**

When I finally polished off a second helping of everything, including more of the French wine, Barbossa split the remainder of the bottle between our glasses, and sat back in his chair to savor his. "So, shall I pay yer compliments to Jerome?" he asked, amused with the unladylike amount of food I'd managed to put away.

"Yes, thank you," I said in earnest. "I think it was the best meal I've ever eaten."

Barbossa smirked. "Aye, well bein' half starved in the brig'll do that to you," he said, wryly. He obviously had no qualms about admitting how he'd treated me just a few days prior. "Does this help make up fer it, Miss Gray?"

"It's a start," I said, taking a sip of wine. "And it's Madeline," I reminded gently in an effort to put myself on more familiar terms.

He chuckled. "Fair enough, _Madeline_. I guess 'twill take more than a fancy bottle of wine to make us even on that account." His brow wrinkled in thought for a moment and then he said what he was thinking. "Madeline doesn't seem to suit ye," he said.

I thought it an odd comment. "Yes, well, I'm rather attached to it by now," I said a little defensively. I thought for a moment – I didn't know Barbossa's given name. "Your names suits you better?" I challenged.

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me for a moment and then he answered. "'Twould not have been my first choice," he said, a little amused, "but it was what I was given by me own dear mother in my father's absence, and Hector was the name she decided on in effort to pair something Portuguese with Barbossa."

I was smart enough not to say that I had never met anyone who seemed so unlike a Hector to me than he did, and I appeared to mull it over for a moment.

"Hector..." I said, pausing thoughtfully, "...like the tragic hero of Troy?"

Barbossa became serious for a minute as he thought it over. He perked up a bit. "I never considered it in that vein," he said, obviously pleased. He raised his glass to me. "Ye'll get on me good side, yet, Madeline, if you keep that up."

I prayed he didn't know how much I needed to be on his good side.

"So, your father was Portuguese?" I asked, continuing the conversation. "That would explain why you speak it."

"Aye, he was indeed, but the little I speak I learned from a very good friend a long time past," Barbossa informed me. "I never met me father." He explained to me briefly about how he was raised, until the age of thirteen, by his mother alone in Padstow.

"I see. That would explain your accent," I replied. "It must have been difficult for your mother alone. My father had help from my grandfather and two uncles, and I'm sure it still wasn't easy raising a daughter."

"What happened to yer mother?" Barbossa asked.

"She died when I was ten from a weak heart," I replied. "Is yours still alive?"

"No," Barbossa replied quietly. The tone of his voice told me I probably shouldn't ask about her any further, so I changed the subject.

"Captain," I asked, not nearly feeling brave enough to address him as Hector, "might I ask where we are headed?"

"Our destination be Tortuga," he replied. "'Twas a fine trip fer the _Rogue_ this venture, and the crew and I have business there before she heads to sea yet again."

"You mean fencing everything you've stolen from the _Essex_ and the cargo ship," I said, trying to hide the contempt that was threatening to creep into my voice.

"Aye, among other things," he replied, in such a manner that I thought it best not to ask about the other things."

I thought things over for a minute before speaking again. "Tortuga is a dangerous place, isn't it?"

"Aye, it be full of pirates and such!" Barbossa said, with a bit of drama, mocking me. "So, no, 'twould not be a suitable port to put you ashore alone. Ye'd not last an hour there by yerself."

I think he knew I was hiding my disappointment. "Ye still need to be lookin' after Turk yet anyway, great poxy codfish that he is, since he hasn't had the sense to die or get out of bed yet."

I remember actually laughing a little at his comment. I knew what he said still fell under our agreement, and so I resolved to be patient and stay my course.

By the time I made it back to my own tiny cabin, if I could actually call it that, it was much later than I thought. I didn't realize how long I'd spoken with Barbossa after dinner about Tortuga.

I'd managed to find out that there were many legitimate businesses there that just happened to cater to buccaneers and pirates as well, and I resolved to try to discover if there was any sort of apothecary where I could stock up on some supplies. If I was going to be stuck on the _Rogue Wave_ for much longer, it was obvious from the way things were going so far that I was going to need a far greater supply of suture and bandages than I had packed in my medical kit.

--

The next day dawned sunny and bright, and I have to say that being on deck in the open air with a calm sea was actually quite agreeable. My seasickness was not as bad as before the storm, probably due in equal measures to being fed, being rested, and a bit of acclimation.

The men on deck seemed to be in good spirits from the weather and the fact that they were only a couple more days out from port, where they would spend their loot on drink, and food, and of course, women. Barbossa had put it as delicately as he could to me, lest I be offended, referring to them as _pleasurable company._

After making sure Turk, the great poxy codfish, had not had the sense to die or get out of bed in the night, I steeled myself and ventured on deck, not knowing how the men would receive me. Evidently women were considered a source of bad luck on a ship, and I already had that black mark against me.

Luck was with me that morning, despite the fact that I am a woman, and the first person I encountered when I stepped out into the sun was Bellamy, one of my surgical assistants. "Good morning," I said cordially to him, where he was standing in a group of five or six rough-looking pirates.

"Mornin', Doctor," he responded pleasantly.

Evidently one of his companions made a comment I did not hear about women and bad luck once again, and Bellamy came to my defense.

"Ah, get off it, Jiggs!" he said sharply. "Miss Gray is alright, isn't she, Waters?"

"Aye," Waters replied, to my relief. "I already told you 'ow she did all that operatin,' sick as she was and ridin' out that storm."

Bellamy added his two cents. "Never seen it done slicker. Barbossa said the same thing."

One of the others, a rangy fellow with a sallow look about him finally spoke to me. "Is it true yer a real doctor?"

I game him the most charming smile I had. "Yes, of course, Mr...?"

"Bennigan," he replied, looking doubtful. "I ain't never seen no lady doctor before."

"Yeah, well now you have," Bellamy said good-naturedly.

The tall one named Jiggs spoke again. "Is it true you pulled a chunk of wood out of Turk?"

"Yes, Mr. Jiggs," I said politely, "about eight or nine inches long."

One of the other pirates named Hoskins snickered and tossed out his own comment.

"Wood eight or nine inches long? We know she can't possibly be talkin' about old Turk," he said. His contribution to the conversation caused the group to burst into rowdy laughter.

Bellamy gallantly stepped in again as I clamped my hand over my mouth, fearing I'd been offended. "Alright, alright, enough of that you mangy…"

"It's alright, Mr. Bellamy." He stopped when I touched his arm and then realized I was trying not to laugh. Despite the fact that my face had gone quite red at that moment, Hoskins' comment had caught me off guard, and I actually had to admit it was funny.

I spent the next hour in the company of Bellamy and his half dozen companions, and by the time I'd finished answering all their questions about the nature of Turk's surgery, as well as all their queries that were designed to see if I really knew what I was talking about medically, I believe I had five more pirates that agreed with Bellamy and Waters about me being _alright_.

I was in the process of explaining to Jiggs why it was better to suture wounds if possible rather than cauterize them as had been done in the past when the crew suddenly straightened up smartly.

"Well, here be a rose among the thorns."

I turned as I heard Barbossa's voice behind me, and a chorus of 'mornin' cap'n' from my seven companions. "Good morning, Captain Barbossa," I added politely.

"Good mornin', Miss Gray," he replied, reverting to addressing me more formally in front of the crew. "Master Jiggs, might I have a word?" Jiggs dutifully followed Barbossa to the helm.

The group I was with thought it best at that point to get back to work and drifted off, leaving me standing with Bellamy. I made it a point to thank him for putting in a good word for me.

"I said nothing that isn't true, Miss Gray," he said with a smile that was actually quite charming. "You're alright in my book."

I smiled back at the dark haired pirate, noting that if he'd shave the goatee, he'd probably be quite good looking. "You don't think I'm bad luck, do you?" I asked, teasing him a little.

"Of course not," he said, "and if I ever need a surgeon, well, as far as I'm concerned, you can operate on me any day."

I got the sense that his comment was sincere, but that he might just be flirting with me a little as well. "Thank you, Mr. Bellamy. Shall we both just hope that need never arises?" I asked him with a laugh.

"Aye," he agreed, smiling again. "Well, I'd best be getting' back to work. Barbossa'll have my nu...my head on a platter if I stand around talking to you much longer."

I laughed again after he'd walked away, thinking him sweet for making the attempt at sparing me from the more colorful of the two statements he'd almost made.

--

That evening I went around to check on Turk, and found for the first time things had seemed to change, some for the better and some not. The first thing I noted was that he seemed to have a slight fever, but when I checked his pupils, they were back to a relatively normal size from the pinpoints they had been.

Upon examining the wounds, I found the source of the fever. While the amputation site seemed so far to be progressing nicely, the wound in Turk's thigh was obviously not cooperating, and pus was beginning to seep between some of the sutures.

Quickly, I returned to my cabin, and gathered up the supplies I would need and brought them back to the medical ward. I removed a few of the sutures at the bottom of the leg wound, providing a drainage hole, and several ounces of thick yellow pus issued from the festering wound. I re-bandaged the leg, leaving the drainage hole open and washed my hands.

I went in search of Barbossa, and found him speaking with Harlow on deck. He listened carefully to my grim progress report. "I think we're losing the battle," I finally said. "The arm is healing well, but he can't go much longer without food or water, and this fever is probably going to do him in. I wouldn't give him much more than twenty-four hours at this point."

Barbossa nodded gravely. "I understand. Ye've done the best you could, Miss Gray, an' that's all that could be done." He turned and addressed Harlow, who had been in on the conversation. "If he dies, we'll bury him at sea before we reach Tortuga."

Harlow nodded. "It's what Turk would've wanted."

--

I sat up that night, trying to keep the fever at bay as best I could with wet cloths and cool sea water, and with no other company for most of the night except the dying man, I mulled over what I was feeling. Of course, I hated to lose any patient, but I was even more frustrated that I was about to lose this man that I'd actually never even met when he'd been conscious.

I was feeling like somehow I'd also let Barbossa down, and why that should matter so much to me was something I was having a bit of difficulty sorting out. Maybe it was the fact that Barbossa seemed to care little about few things, and had seemed to distantly express that Turk might be one of them.

I had a hunch that there'd been a lot of loss in Barbossa's life, after hearing a little about his family, and for some reason it didn't seem right to me that this friend should die. To this day I am not sure what made me think that at the time, but it seemed to be the way I felt.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning, the door to the small cabin opened, and Barbossa came in, saying nothing but giving me a look that asked how things stood.

"Not good," I said softly, from where I was placing a cool cloth back on Turk's head.

I glanced back at Barbossa, and even in the dim lighting could tell he looked like he hadn't slept up until that point. His hat was absent, and he stood there in his shirtsleeves looking haggard and grim.

"How long?" he asked, and I shook my head, indicating I didn't know. He was close enough to me in that small room that I could smell the rum on him, and I suspected he'd consumed a fair amount, trying to drown the grief he couldn't express.

I wouldn't be human if I didn't feel some degree of sympathy toward him that night. I recall him standing in front of the cot, arms folded across his chest, and eyes staring at, yet not seeing the still figure on the bed, and jaw set firmly.

I had been in such a position many times before with people who were about to lose family or friends, and as I naturally would have done with anyone else, I went to stand a little closer and speak some kind word.

"Captain," I began, drawing his attention and focusing his eyes on mine. "I'm sorry there isn't more I can do," I said quietly, reaching out and laying my hand on his arm lightly. He flinched slightly at my touch, and I would have thought I had startled him if he hadn't been looking right at me.

"Ye'll stay with 'im?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Come get me immediately if...there be any change," he ordered quietly, and he turned away and left me to my lonely vigil, returning to his own in his cabin.

--

Morning came, and found Turk still had not made up his mind about whether to die or get out of bed. His fever remained, but I found that his pupils actually responded whenever I brought a light near. I changed the bandage on his arm, and removed the one on his leg, which was still full of pus, although not as much as the day before. The thing that had me baffled about why it was draining so much was the fact that the tissue surrounding the wound looked inflamed, but otherwise did not appear to be gangrenous.

Frustrated with the fact that the man was probably going to succumb to dehydration before his neurological status improved enough for him to be able to drink anything, I left the wound open, and ran to grab more linen to re-dress the leg with.

When I returned and reached out to cover the wound, something caught my eye that I hadn't seen before, and I leaned down to inspect the wound more closely. A small, dark fleck of something firm seemed to be visible through the drainage hole I'd created, and suddenly inspired, I cut out several more sutures, creating better visualization of the tissue under the skin.

I was rewarded for my efforts by finding that the thing I'd seen was actually the end of another thin splinter of wood, about an inch and a half long, that had originally been buried in the tissue where I couldn't see it, and had managed to work its way loose as the pus accumulated in response to it.

I pulled it free, and daring to hope that this might be the source of the continued fever, flushed the remaining pus out of the wound, left it open to drain, and re-bandaged it.

I said nothing to Barbossa or anyone else, as I didn't want to inspire false hope where there was very little.

Two hours later, Turk's fever remained, and I finally began to despair. I changed the wet cloth on his head, and sat down in the chair I had next to his cot. Exhausted from staying up all night, I laid my head on my arm on the edge of the cot and dozed off.

An hour or so later, I sat up blearily, thinking I'd heard someone call my name. The door to the cabin was closed, and I was alone still. I was about to stand up, and that was when I heard it again. The man on the bed in front of me let out a low moan.

Quickly jumping to my feet, I felt his head. No fever. I stuck my hand in his armpit just to be sure that his head didn't feel cooler because of the damp cloth, and sure enough, he felt normal. He moaned aloud again at my touch, and rolled his head away from me, reflexively toward the source of his pain.

I could tell his eyelids were beginning to flutter, and as ecstatic as I was that the man looked like he was about to make up his mind about his fate, I suddenly realized that I was going to need help if he did, in fact, regain his senses.

I sprang for the door and flung it open, calling to the nearest person I could see. It was Jiggs. "Jiggs!" I screamed, nearly causing the man to jump out of his skin. "Get the captain, _now_!"

I watched him hurtle along the passage and up the stairs, and then another moan brought my attention back to the waking man on the bed. His head was rolling slowly from side to side, and his eyes were open but unfocused.

It seemed to take an eternity for anyone to reach the cabin, and as I watched, thrilled and horrified simultaneously, Turk finally came to his senses, sat up, and let out a blood-curdling wail.

I rushed to his side, trying to get his attention, but the bloody pirate, disoriented with the pain of his wounds and at a loss as to why half his arm was missing, finally made up his mind at that moment that he was going to get out of bed.

I threw myself at him, trying to pin him down, but the man was probably twice my size and brushed me, a complete stranger to him, aside like swatting a fly. He tried to climb out of the bed, and I yelled at him, rebounding off the wall and grabbing his good arm.

"Turk!" I cried. "Stop! Sit down!"

Turk bellowed in pain and frustration and reached out and grabbed me by the throat. "Who the fuck are you?" he growled, his voice hoarse from several days of disuse. Of course, I couldn't answer him at that point as his tightening grip on my airway kept me from doing so.

I fought to pry his fingers off to no avail, and amazed that the giant of a man had the strength remaining to do so after what he'd been through, watched as he stood up and towered over me unsteadily as he continued to choke the life out of me.

Even as I began to feel my vision get fuzzy, I could tell that the man was starting to pay more attention to his surroundings, and unfortunately the first thing he noticed other than his missing arm, was the fact that in order to facilitate my daily treatments and evaluations of his wounds, I'd removed his clothes.

Turk was unfortunately standing there with his fingers around my neck wearing nothing but his bandages.

"Where the fuck are my pants?" he cried, obviously not keeping priorities straight.

At that moment the door flew open, and Barbossa, Harlow, Jiggs, and Bellamy all drew up short in the doorway, mouths agape for an instant at seeing me hanging in the grip of the very large, angry, naked pirate.

--


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten ~*~**

**--**

_Even as I began to feel my vision get fuzzy, I could tell that the man was starting to pay more attention to his surroundings, and unfortunately the first thing he noticed other than his missing arm, was the fact that in order to facilitate my daily treatments and evaluations of his wounds, I'd removed his clothes._

_Turk was unfortunately standing there with his fingers around my neck wearing nothing but his bandages._

_"Where the fuck are my pants?" he cried, obviously not keeping priorities straight._

_At that moment the door flew open, and Barbossa, Harlow, Jiggs, and Bellamy all drew up short in the doorway, mouths agape for an instant at seeing me hanging in the grip of the very large, angry, naked pirate._

--

Fortunately for me, Barbossa and Harlow sprang into action, grabbing Turk and shouting at him to let me go.

"Turk! Drop 'er now!" Barbossa yelled.

Still not completely lucid at that point, Turk obliged simply by opening his fingers, and I crumpled to the floor ungracefully. Bellamy managed to get through the door as Barbossa and Harlow wrestled Turk back onto the cot, and he flung himself to the floor next to me, pulling me against him and out of the way of the others as I gasped and coughed, clutching at my throat.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wide-eyed and sounding genuinely concerned. I nodded weakly, and leaned against him, trying to catch my breath.

The captain finally seemed to get Turk's attention, and he stopped fighting and began to look from Barbossa to Harlow and back, and then at his missing arm, obviously in pain and in need of some sort of explanation.

"What happened to me fuckin' arm?" he gasped, the exertion of the struggle catching up with him. "And where are me fuckin' pants?" he cried again. "I'm spread out naked as a jay bird and there's a wench on board the ship?" he demanded. "What the fuck is goin' on here, Hector?"

Barbossa couldn't help but laugh at his friend's helplessness at that point, relieved as he probably was to see Turk alive.

"Shut up, yeh stupid bloody ox!" he commanded. "'Tis obvious ye've had a great blow to the head...it's not like you to normally complain about havin' yer pants down in front of a woman."

He was kind at that point and yanked the blanket over the distraught pirate. "This wench yer talkin' about is the doctor that's saved yer great pathetic arse from the Locker," Barbossa informed him. "She's the one as cut yer mangled arm off."

Turk looked at me, uncertain about how he felt about me still. "She took off me arm?" he asked, staring at the tidily bandaged stump.

"Aye, and a great chunk of hull out of yer leg," Barbossa confirmed.

Turk tried to sit up again, looking a bit concerned. "Is there anything else the bitch cut off me?" he asked, his gaze heading southward.

"Nay, nothin' important like that," Barbossa replied with a laugh, pushing Turk back onto the pillow. "Now, stop being so rude to me ship's surgeon and say yer thanks."

Turk eyed me again, but said nothing and Barbossa elbowed him a bit in his ribs. "Alright!" he gasped, tears springing to his eyes, probably because his ribs were likely broken. "Thank you," he said weakly. "Sorry."

"Just a misunderstanding," I said, finally regaining my breath. I tried to get up unsuccessfully, but Bellamy placed a hand on my arm and one around my waist and helped me get to my feet. He didn't let go until he was sure I was on steady ground.

I had Jiggs go for water at that point, and saw to it that someone was to stay at Turk's bedside around the clock. He'd been worn out by the trauma of his ordeal, and had fallen into a fitful but normal sleep.

--

Over the next few days Turk improved steadily, and began eating and drinking again whenever he was awake. Evidently Barbossa had filled him in on the details of the week he'd missed out on, and why it was that there happened to be a doctor on board the _Rogue Wave_.

His arm continued to heal well, and once the offending smaller splinter had been found and removed from the leg wound, the amount of discharge decreased each time I changed the bandage again, and I knew Turk was probably out of the woods.

If Turk's recovery was due in some part to my skill, he repaid the favor, albeit unknowingly, by improving my standing with most of the crew. While a few of them occasionally still grumbled about women and bad luck, most of them were in awe of the fact that I had supposedly pulled Turk back from the edge of the abyss.

More than likely it was his extremely hardy constitution that had allowed him to survive the injuries he'd gotten, as well as an amazing dose of luck, but I certainly wasn't going to go out of my way to argue that point more than necessary.

Finally, only a half-day or so out of Tortuga, I went to find Barbossa a few afternoons after Turk had woken up, and found him by the large pirate's bedside. Both men had been laughing when I entered, and looked up as I opened the door.

"Here's the wench now," Turk said jovially, giving me the impression that I might have been part of what they'd been discussing when I'd walked in.

Barbossa folded his arms across his chest. "Must ye address Miss Gray that way?" he asked, scolding Turk mockingly. "That'd not be any way to address a lady, an' certainly not one who's saved yer mangy carcass."

Turk gave me an apologetic smile. "Stow it, Hector. The lady knows I'm jus' havin' a bit of fun with her, don't ya darlin'?"

"Of course," I said with a smile. I had surmised already that there was a long history between the two men, and the fact that Turk used Barbossa's first name, even sometimes when members of the crew were around, said a lot about that history. Harlow was the only other crew member I'd heard address the captain as Hector, and even so, only if the two of them were speaking in private.

All three of us inspected the arm wound, which was still healing nicely, and I reached to draw back the blanket to check the drainage from the one in Turk's thigh.

"Tryin' to get under the covers with me again, are yeh, darlin?" he asked. Laughing a little, he grabbed my arm in fun and made as if to pull me into the bed with him. "Get out an give us a little alone time, would yeh, mate?" he said cheerfully to Barbossa.

I laughed, and tried to free myself from his grasp. "Don't you dare leave me alone with him," I scolded Barbossa, who had made as if to exit.

"Oh ho! See that, Hector, the lady wants you to stay!" Turk said, finally relenting and letting go with another laugh. "Maybe she'd like both of us, mate, for a little...what's that bloody French word, Barbossa?"

"Menage-a-trois?" Barbossa supplied innocently.

"Yeah, that's the one," Turk said with a grin.

"Turk," Barbossa said softly, "Miss Gray speaks French fluently."

"Oh shit, why didn't yeh tell me that?" Turk complained.

"I'm sure Miss Gray is smart enough to get the meanin' of what ye'd been implyin', anyway," Barbossa said with a smirk.

"Yes," I answered a bit unevenly, "and as tempting as the thought may be, I must respectfully decline, gentlemen."

"Suit yerself, darlin'," Turk said. "Prob'ly jus' as well. Yeh'd been ruined for life after that."

"What?" I managed to croak.

"Aye, it's true," Turk continued, " once yeh've had a pirate, luv, yeh never go back."

I decided that it was time for me to get out of the very small cabin. "Yes, well, I'll keep that in mind. If you'll excuse me?"

I managed to escape on deck, and leaning on the rail to watch a flock of seabirds whirling nearby, I realized that I'd never gotten to ask Barbossa what I'd intended to. It didn't matter, as he appeared the next moment, and after sharing a word or two with Hoskins, headed my way.

He leaned his forearms on the rail next to me. "You know Turk is harmless, don't you, Madeline?"

"Not exactly the first term that comes to mind for any pirate," I said, still watching the birds, "but yes, I get your meaning."

"Good. Was there somethin' ye needed?" he asked.

"Yes, actually," I said, turning and facing him, " I want to be allowed to go to shore when we get to Tortuga."

An eyebrow climbed toward the brim of his hat. "Why?"

"Well," I began, "it looks as if I'm going to need to restock medical supplies...my own are nearly gone, and the ship's supplies are woefully inadequate..."

"Ah," Barbossa said, cutting me off, "well, we can't be havin' that." His tone mocked me just a little. He thought about it for a minute. "You recall me sayin' that Tortuga isn't a suitable port, don't you?"

"Yes, but I'm simply asking to be able to get what I need if I'm to remain on board," I said. "Perhaps if one or two of the men would escort me?" I asked, trying to head off any accusation that I might try and escape, and therefore renege on our bargain.

"Perhaps ye'd write a list?" Barbossa asked. "We need to re-supply a fair bit, anyway, after the lads have had a little shore leave. Name it, and I'll have anythin' ye need brought on board."

I couldn't really argue with that. "Alright." I didn't do a very good job hiding the disappointment in my voice. While I had no intentions of trying to escape, I really just wanted to get off the damn ship for a while.

"Good." Barbossa straightened off the rail a little stiffly, a result of whatever injury had caused his characteristic uneven gait. "Give the list to Master Harlow by tomorrow mornin' before we make port. He'll see to whatever 'tis ye need."

"Thank you, Captain," I said a bit rigidly.

Barbossa continued to stand casually by the rail next to me, scrutinizing the horizon, and I thought it rude to walk away first, so I stood nearby, silently disappointed over not being allowed off the ship.

He spoke again after a moment. "I've not had a chance to thank ye properly," he said quietly.

"For?" I asked, curious about what he had to say.

He glanced at me briefly before looking back over the water. "Fer savin' Turk," he replied.

"I'm just glad that he's alright," I said, letting go of my frustration with him as I spoke. "He really did most of it on his own."

"That may be true," Barbossa said in return, "but what ye did tipped the scale in his favor, and he would've had a watery grave by now if it weren't fer yer help."

I started to downplay my role in Turk's survival again, but Barbossa cut me off.

"Yeh don't give yerself enough credit fer what ye did," he said, scolding me a little. He turned and leaned on his elbow on the railing so he could face me as he spoke. "I think ye underestimate what you've done...what yer capable of."

I leaned on the railing again, myself, watching the waves he'd been looking at, a bit uncomfortable with his comments. "I just did the best I could," I said simply, hoping to end the matter.

"Well," he said, giving me an apparently genuine smile, "even if yer not inclined to take credit, it doesn't stop me from burdenin' ye with it."

I glanced at him and smiled back, finding his persistence genuinely amusing.

"Ah, 'tis a fine mornin' indeed if the sun be shinin' and I be favored with a smile like that from a beautiful woman," Barbossa said pleasantly. His lack of sarcasm caught me off guard as much as his comment, and I straightened up off the railing, not knowing what to say.

He too, straightened up off the rail and took a step closer. "I'm curious, Madeline," he said quietly, reaching out a hand to gently but firmly turn my face back toward him after I'd looked away.

"Is it all men ye have a hard time acceptin' compliments from," he asked, standing entirely too close to me for me to be comfortable, "or is it just me that ye find yerself so flustered with?"

I took a step back, frazzled but refusing to admit it. "I am not flustered," I insisted, as he let go of my chin.

"No?" he asked, taking another step closer, eyes still on mine.

"Not at all," I said unconvincingly, backing another step away as he neared. I gasped out loud as my foot met no resistance from the deck, and I fell back a little, about to topple through the opening in the railing.

Barbossa, seeing me backing toward the break in the rail and anticipating my fall, had snaked an arm around my waist to catch me, keeping me from going overboard, while I reflexively grabbed at him to keep myself from falling. The result was that I stood with nothing but open water behind me, Barbossa's arm holding me against him, my hands grasping the front of his shirt desperately.

He said nothing for a moment, but I knew he wouldn't let me be, even as he stepped aside and released me to the safety of the deck behind the rail. "It must be me," he quipped, as he let go, "if ye be throwin' yerself at me like that."

I started sputtering. "Of all the arrogant..."

He laughed at me as I got angry. "Yer gettin' flustered again, _Doctor_," he said, and he chuckled once more and walked away, leaving me fuming on the deck.

--

I spent the afternoon going through the haphazard collection of medical supplies that the ship carried, and composed an extensive list of linen bandages, silk suture, liniments, and medications that I wanted, including detailed descriptions.

I threw myself into the task, wanting to be thorough, but also trying to distract myself from my thoughts of my encounter topside earlier with Barbossa. I spent a lot of energy doing so and by the time I was done and gave the list to Harlow, it was pretty long.

Harlow eyed my extensive list. "You need all of this?" he asked in his customary gruff way.

"Yes. Barbossa said he'd have whatever I wanted brought on board." I'd found that invoking the captain's name tended to get things done a bit faster around the ship.

"Alright, if that's what he wants," Harlow answered. "You'll have it." He folded the list and tucked it away in his vest, nodded and walked away.

I turned to walk in the opposite direction, still unable to let go of the things Barbossa had said to me, and I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going. Unfortunately I managed to walk smack into Stoker.

Stoker, I have previously mentioned twice, although not by name. He was the pirate that threatened to cut out Cornelia's tongue, and wanted Barbossa to toss me overboard, and was one of the few remaining crew that maintained that having a woman on board was bad luck. He was also one of the few who kept from slitting my throat or worse, solely because he feared Barbossa's wrath.

Tall and broad, with multiple earrings through each ear and a shaved head, he painted the very picture of a thug to me, and normally I stayed clear of him as best I could.

While I'd recently learned that Turk was in fact bo'sun aboard the _Rogue_, Stoker had been given the duties of that office while Turk had been incapacitated.

Thankfully, I was still on deck with plenty of other crew around when I managed to bump into him, and he snarled at me, grabbed me by the arms, and set me out of his path, settling for growling some curse under his breath at me before heading aft.

I will be the first to admit that the man scared me, and I kicked myself for not being more careful. I didn't need to do anything else to provoke the irritable bo'sun's mate.

--

As odd as it sounds, as the evening drew near, the mood aboard ship became even more buoyant, and the crew, anticipating shore leave and cheered by the fact that Turk had survived, seemed for all the world to bear the air of schoolboys anticipating the end of the last day of school for the summer.

Dinner had been served on deck, and even Barbossa joined the crew for a while that night. Despite it being against my better judgment normally, I gave permission for Turk to be moved, and his mates set him up in a chair in the place of honor on deck, after of course, giving him back his clothes.

The pirates were telling stories of adventures that they had shared with Turk, and he laughed heartily along with the rest of them as they affectionately made fun of him. With spirits running as high as they were, it wasn't long before drink was flowing on deck.

When the first round made it to each member of the crew, someone called for a toast, and the call was repeated across the deck, finally with someone calling out to toast Turk.

"Aye, to Turk!" the rest of the company cried out, and drank to the recovering man's health.

I managed a small sip of the grog in my cup, standing off to one side with Bellamy, Hickmott, and Waters, my surgical assistants. What I didn't know until that moment about drinking traditions among pirates, was that it was up to the person who had been toasted to propose another, and so on down the line.

While it seemed on the surface like a genial custom among shipmates, it could actually be a way to very quickly get rip-roaring, fall-on-your-face drunk.

I was taken aback when Turk, therefore, raised his cup high and toasted me.

"To the ship's doctor!" he called out, giving me a nod and a smile as he did so.

"Aye, to the lady doctor!" echoed around the crew. "To May!"

"Aye, to May!"

I'm sure my face was red, but I smiled and raised my own drink, and took another sip of grog. I was a bit puzzled by the toast and I looked to Bellamy for some sort of explanation.

"It's what the lads have taken to calling you," he replied. He then explained that the pirates, not prone to formality, found it tiresome to address me as 'Miss Gray' and found 'Madeline' a bit stuffy for their collective taste.

One of the Cockneys on board had then made a bit of a joke and shortened Madeline Gray to 'May' in a bit of a perverse salute to the fact that May first was also the day I had 'joined the crew', so to speak.

From that night onward, May I became to the lot of them, and the name stuck firmly for the rest of my voyage. Even Barbossa, although he typically still addressed me as 'Miss Gray' in front of the crew, took to calling me 'May' in casual conversation, or whenever he spoke directly to me.

Seeing the look of uncertainty on my face, Bellamy assured me it was a compliment to be given the nickname, and that in fact, I could have ended up with much worse.

While I stood there listening as Bellamy finished his explanation, I got the distinct impression that the crew was waiting on me for something, and Bellamy once again explained.

"It's your turn to make a toast," he whispered, and suddenly the toasting custom became apparent to me.

The only problem was, I had no idea what to say, and for a moment I was at a loss. Finally, I stepped forward and raised my drink.

Although I probably did the thing the crew least expected at that point, I knew my choice was the most obvious one, and I held my mug up and addressed the captain.

"To Captain Barbossa," I said, giving him the most charming smile I had. "May he get what he wants, may he gets what he needs, but may he never get what he deserves."

A cheer went up from the crew and they toasted the captain. Even Barbossa seemed amused and nodded in acknowledgment of my toast.

At that point the crew called rowdily for Barbossa to make a toast, and not one to be outdone lightly, he stepped forward into the middle of the gathering on deck.

"Gents," he said, "I'll not toast a single one of ye, this night."

He paused for a moment as the crew grew quiet.

"But instead I drink to you all!"

The crew let out a cheer and waited for him to speak again, and Barbossa raised his cup to the crew. "Here's to cheatin', stealin', fightin', and drinkin'..." he said, turning in a half circle to address them all as the next cheer went up.

"If ye cheat, may ye cheat death..." he said, pausing to let the crew reply.

"AYE!" Came the unanimous response.

"If ye steal, may ye steal a woman's heart..." Barbossa continued, pausing for effect again.

"AYE!"

"If ye fight, may ye fight for a brother..." he said, slightly more solemn.

"AYE!"

"If ye drink," Barbossa paused and raised his cup a little higher, "...well, make sure ye buy one fer me!"

The crew roared their approval of Barbossa's toast, and after tossing back their grog, someone called for a song. Somewhere among the crew, a bawdy drinking song got started, and it began to weave its way across the deck.

Not really feeling like I needed to participate in the verse about the poor governor's daughter, I managed to move out of the group a little, and looked out over the railing, watching the new moon. I was recalling the last night I'd been on the deck of the _Essex_, and found it hard to believe that it had been a week and a half ago. It seemed like a lifetime.

I was lost in my thoughts, when someone joined me, leaning on the rail next to me. Looking to my right, I was surprised to see that Michael Bellamy had followed.

--

**A/N**: Madeline's and Barbossa's toasts are variations of traditional Irish toasts, if you've never heard them before.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven ~*~**

_The crew roared their approval of Barbossa's toast, and after tossing back their grog, someone called for a song. Somewhere among the crew, a bawdy drinking song got started, and it began to weave its way across the deck._

_Not really feeling like I needed to participate in the verse about the poor governor's daughter, I managed to move out of the group a little, and looked out over the railing, watching the new moon. I was recalling the last night I'd been on the deck of the Essex, and found it hard to believe that it had been a week and a half ago. It seemed like a lifetime._

_I was lost in my thoughts, when someone joined me, leaning on the rail next to me. Looking to my right, I was surprised to see that Michael Bellamy had followed._

"Do you mind?" Bellamy asked me, as he came to stand next to me.

"No, of course not," I said, giving him a smile. "I appreciate the company."

"I figure it must be hard for you," Bellamy mused, staring over the dark waves while he spoke.

"What would?" I asked.

"Being stuck with a bunch of pirates...being kidnapped...locked up...among other things..."

He broke off and glanced sideways across the deck at Barbossa, and although he didn't say it, I knew what he was thinking. He, like the rest of the crew, was still under the assumption that Barbossa had been less than a gentleman with me that first night.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Bellamy blurted out softly.

I was surprised at the concern in his voice. "Really, I'm fine...he..."

"It's not right, treating a lady like that," Bellamy continued, seeming irritated.

"Michael," I said, using his given name, "I appreciate your concern, but I hate to have you thinking worse of your captain than he deserves."

He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "If I tell you something, will you keep it to yourself?"

He frowned but promised. "Aye, I'd keep anything you ask me quiet," he replied, unsure where I was going with things.

"Michael, Barbossa never laid a finger on me that night," I explained.

"He didn't?" Bellamy seemed confused. "But the whole crew thought..."

The light suddenly went on, and his opinion of Barbossa went back up considerably, I'd venture to say. "That sly old dog!" he whispered, starting to grin. "He had half the crew feeling sorry for you."

I smiled at him again, and looked back over the waves. "And what about the other half?"

He looked a bit embarrassed. "Well, lets just say they wouldn't have minded being in his boots."

"Lovely," I said, not really meaning it.

"Well," Bellamy said, sounding very relieved, "that's grand. I was really worried that..." He stopped short, looking a bit embarrassed again.

Neither of us had a chance to say anything else as the crew was suddenly calling for him.

"Bellamy!"

"Aye, Bellamy, give us a tune!"

"The lads want me to sing," he said, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, well, I'd love to hear you sing, Michael," I said in earnest.

Bellamy smiled, and looking pleased at what I'd said, jogged back to the waiting crew as they cheered.

"Give us that Irish tune, Bellamy!"

"Nay, the ballad about the ghost ship! Sing us that one!"

"Nay, sing somethin' fer May," someone teased. "Sing her that Italian song you know!"

Bellamy laughed at all the requests. "Alright, shall I sing for May?" he asked the crew, and they all agreed.

I was surprised that the pirate crew would request such a song after the rowdy drinking tune they'd just finished, but when I heard Bellamy begin the sweet sad melody in Italian, his fine strong tenor held everyone captive as he sang. To this day I'm not sure that I have ever heard a more wonderful performance.

I went to stand a little closer to the crew to listen as he sang, and leaned over to speak to young Hickmott. "What is this song?" I whispered.

He leaned toward me and whispered back. "I don't understand the words, but Bellamy has sung it before, and it's one the crew always asks him to sing."

"What's it about?" I whispered.

"It's a love song," Hickmott replied in a whisper again.

I don't speak Italian, and for all I knew, Bellamy could have been singing about plucking chickens, but the way he sang the haunting melody, his beautiful voice would have held me enthralled regardless.

No one spoke during the song, and at one point I remembered glancing across the gathering of pirates, amazed that they appeared as spellbound as I was while Bellamy sang.

Curious at that moment as to whether the captain had remained on deck, I glanced in the direction I'd last seen him, and was startled to find that he was already looking at me from where he stood.

I got the impression that he'd been watching me watch Bellamy sing, and seemed a bit put out. I broke eye contact, returning to watching Bellamy, and realized that Barbossa appeared to dislike not being the center of attention.

When the song was over, the crew let out a thunderous cheer, and Bellamy took a bow and stepped out from center stage. It was only another minute before another rowdy drinking song was underway with the crew.

Bellamy strode over to where I was standing with young Hickmott.

"That was amazing!" I said enthusiastically. "I've never heard a finer voice, Michael."

"Really?" he asked, sounding quite please at my comments.

I nodded. "Truly. The song was absolutely lovely. What's it about?"

"It's a rather sad love song," he explained. "It's about a sailor of course, which is why the lads like it."

I looked at him expectantly for more of an explanation.

"Well, the song is about a sailor who meets a beautiful girl," he continued, a bit quieter. "It tells about how he longs to tell her that he desires her, but because the worlds they both know are so different, he realizes that they must remain apart. The end of the song tells of how even though they only ever share but one night before he leaves her again, never to return in this life, they are fated to love each other forever."

"That's what you just sang?" I asked. "I can hardly believe that beautiful song tells such a sad story."

"Aye," Bellamy said, looking at me in a way I couldn't quite fathom, "it would be a sad tale if it were true."

A rowdy chorus of '_yo ho, yo ho_' interrupted our conversation. I decided that it was late, and that I'd probably be better off below deck in my cabin as the drinking was now getting a bit out of hand. I bid Bellamy and Hickmott good night, and retired to my closet for the rest of the evening.

~~o~~

During the day, viewed from the deck of the _Rogue_, Tortuga looked innocent enough, but looks, I had been well warned, could be deceiving.

I found it extremely frustrating when the ship dropped anchor and the crew, having already made provision for dividing the swag and setting watches on the ship, began to load the boats and unload the _Rogue's_ holds, heading for shore without me. The maddening thing was that I was stuck on the ship, with shore only been a few hundred yards away.

Harlow checked with me to make sure that there wasn't anything else I wanted added to the list, and I made one last attempt at getting time off the ship.

"If it's easier, I could just do it myself," I said. "That way if there's anything else I think of..."

Harlow gave me a look that told me I should quit while I was ahead. "We'll be here for a few days, so if you think of anything else you can tell me."

I nodded reluctantly, and watched the next group of pirates leave with their treasure. Not that I wanted anything to do with their money or spending it, I just wanted to set my feet back on solid ground for a short time.

The only other person who might have been unhappier about being stuck on the ship while everyone else took turns in town, was probably Turk. While he was getting stronger every day, and both wounds were healing up nicely, he still wasn't at the point where I thought he could handle _shore leave _of any type.

He'd begged, pleaded, yelled and threatened, but I stood fast in my conviction that he needed more rest before he went out after women and drink, and Barbossa backed me up, much to Turk's dismay.

While I stood at the rail, watching the last of the crew who were going ashore that time cross the short distance from the _Rogue_ to the docks, Turk turned up on deck and came to stand next to me.

"Tis a bloody shame," he said, playing on my sympathies again, " to be pulled back from the brink of death itself, only to be stuck on this friggin' bucket without a drop of rum or a decent pair of tits in sight."

I shot him the dirtiest look I could manage, and he laughed.

"Present company excluded," he amended, after a glance at my chest.

I shot him another dirty look. "Don't even start with me, Turk. You're not going to jeopardize your health or recovery after everything I've been through on this _bucket_," I snapped. "You're just going to have to face the fact that you're not going."

"I see facin' that fact has put you in a fine mood this morning," Turk snapped back. He thought about it for a minute. "What about if I have a word with Barbossa? Make him see he really should let yeh off fer a bit? Would you do the same fer me?"

"No, my decision is medically based and not subject to bargaining," I said grumpily.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. "Dammit, woman, yer keepin' me held prisoner here!"

I gave him his third dirty look of the morning. "Welcome to the club."

He glared at me for a minute, and finally conceded that I had a valid point. "Alright, fine. I know yer jus' lookin' out fer me."

"That's right," I answered, still grouchy, "the same way Barbossa is supposedly looking out for me."

Turk gave me a questioning look.

"He won't let me off the ship because he won't inconvenience crew to keep an eye on me, and he says Tortuga is too dangerous for me otherwise," I complained.

"He's right, darlin'," Turk replied. "Things can get a bit rough there on a good night, and Tortuga is really no place a respectable lady like yerself should be alone."

"I understand that, Turk," I said, more disappointment than irritation in my voice, "but I really just wanted to get solid ground under my feet. I'm a doctor, not a pirate, and none of this was my idea in the first place."

I suddenly found that I was fighting back tears, and I looked away, not wanting Turk to see any weakness from me.

"Aye, well, that may be, but it was a lucky thing fer me that you ended up on the _Rogue_, May," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. "I don't know if I've thanked yeh properly, but I'll be indebted to yeh fer a good long while fer what you did."

I tried to smile at him and tell him I was just glad he was better, but I didn't trust my voice at that point and said nothing, and I know he could tell I was trying not to cry.

He gave my shoulder a pat. "It's alright, darlin'. Yeh've had a rough go of things lately."

I still couldn't say anything, but I appreciated the effort he was making.

"From what I hear yer a pretty tough nut, though. Even Barbossa said so," Turk said, obviously trying to say something to make me feel better.

I said nothing for a minute, and then glanced at him. "Barbossa said that?" I asked.

"Aye. He said yeh handled yerself better'n a lot of men would if they'd been taken hostage. Said it jus before yeh walked in on us yesterday."

I didn't have a chance to discuss the matter further, for at that moment Bellamy appeared on deck, and I have to admit I was surprised to see him. Evidently he'd drawn first watch duty aboard the ship, and he spotted me talking to Turk and came to join us.

"Good mornin'," he said cheerfully, and then grew concerned as he saw the strained look on my face. "What's wrong, May?"

I shook my head and would have told him I was fine, but Turk spoke before I had a chance.

"We're wallowin' in our misery together, Bellamy," he said jovially. "Neither of us is goin' ashore this trip, it looks like."

"Why?" Bellamy asked, still looking at me in a concerned way.

"Well, Doc, here thinks I'm not well enough yet," Turk explained.

"You're not," I insisted, and he rolled his eyes at me.

"And Barbossa wants May to stay on board," Turk finished.

"Why? She deserves to go ashore as much as anyone does," Bellamy said, defending my cause.

Turk explained that Barbossa didn't want me going alone, and wouldn't put any of the crew out to keep an eye one me.

"Well, if May wants to get off the ship for a bit tomorrow," Bellamy replied, " she could go with me and Waters. We'd keep an eye on her."

I started to look hopeful again, and Turk, feeling bad for me, said he'd have word with Barbossa on my behalf. "I'm not promisin' anything. If the captain still says no, then it's no, and that's that."

I nodded in agreement and Turk walked slowly off. He was more tired than he'd admit from being up and about, and was probably realizing that I'd been right all along about him needing more rest.

Bellamy started to walk away aft and indicated that I should come with him so we could keep talking. "Don't worry, May, if anyone on board has any pull with Barbossa, it's Turk. I'd be willin' to bet that he'll get you off this ship for a bit."

"Well, if he does, it's thanks to you," I said as we walked. He halted in front of the last mast, which he explained to me was the mizzen. "What are you doing?" I asked, watching him handling some of the ropes.

"Hoistin' our colors," Bellamy answered. "Cap'n likes to have his colors flying when we're in Tortuga so no one makes any mistake about whose ship this is."

"Do all pirates do that?" I asked, watching as he began tying the Jolly Roger to the ropes.

"Nah, but the Pirate Lords usually do." Bellamy started to haul one of the ropes, pulling the black flag open from the folded bundle he'd been working with.

"Each pirate ship has it's own unique flag that identifies it as a pirate vessel and identifies the captain who sails her. This is Barbossa's," he explained, as the flag continued to unfurl, and the grinning skull and crossed swords came into view.

I watched as the banner rose and began to billow out over our heads, and then Bellamy laughed.

"Here, you do it," he said, making as if to hand me the ropes. "How many other doctors you know can claim to have hoisted the Jolly Roger?" he asked, grinning at me. "Go on."

I took the ropes and gave one a pull, and the flag dropped a few feet back toward us.

"No, this one. Like this," he said, placing his hand over mine on the correct line. "Pull."

I did as I was instructed, and Bellamy and I hoisted the colors together, laughing as we did so. I watched him tie off the line, and gazed overhead to watch the Jolly Roger snapping smartly in the breeze.

"See that," he said, following my gaze to where the skull and twin swords loomed over our heads, "we'll make a pirate wench out of you yet."

"I highly doubt that," I said, laughing at his comment. I looked back up the mast. "So, everyone in Tortuga now knows he's here?" I asked, suspecting that this was another means of Barbossa showing off.

"Yes," Bellamy answered, "Barbossa is Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, and he has no trouble reminding anyone of that fact. It makes sense to raise the colors, though. Not all of the Pirate Lords get along, and it's nice to know who's in port with you."

I spent the next hour following Bellamy around, and he instructed me in the finer details of how the ship was rigged, what made her a frigate, how the steering worked and other details of her operation. While to this day I only remember a handful of all the things he taught me, he obviously enjoyed giving the lesson, and I enjoyed his company as I struggled with trying to name all the sails again.

Finally I left him to go and check on Turk, and found that all was well with him other than the fact that he was snoring very loudly.

**A/N:** The scene where Michael Bellamy sings in Italian comes from me having too much caffeine while writing, after walking into my mom's house where she had Josh Groban playing.

While there is some debate among fans over just when Barbossa becomes a Pirate Lord, I disregard the notion that it happens while he's cursed, and maintain that it happened not long before this story. Hence part of his desire to show off.

While I've been having fun playing with Turk and Bellamy this chapter, I promise there's more Barbossa next one!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve ~*~**

_"Yes," Bellamy answered, "Barbossa is Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, and he has no trouble reminding anyone of that fact. It makes sense to raise the colors, though. Not all of the Pirate Lords get along, and it's nice to know who's in port with you."_

_I spent the next hour following Bellamy around, and he instructed me in the finer details of how the ship was rigged, what made her a frigate, how the steering worked and other details of her operation. While to this day I only remember a handful of all the things he taught me, he obviously enjoyed giving the lesson, and I enjoyed his company as I struggled with trying to name all the sails again._

_Finally I left him to go and check on Turk, and found that all was well with him other than the fact that he was snoring very loudly._

~~o~~

That evening after dinner, I sat in my cabin reading a book that had been found in a stolen chest along with a dozen others. I'd rescued them before the pirates had managed to dump them overboard, and for the moment, I had a volume about the natural history of the Caribbean to keep me occupied.

Not long before I would have turned in for the evening, a knock came at my door, and I got up to open it.

"Michael," I said, surprised to see him outside my cabin. "What is it?"

"Captain wants to see you," Bellamy said. I remember thinking he didn't look pleased about acting as a messenger.

I set my book on one of the trunks and accompanied him to the great cabin, where he knocked on the door. "The doctor to see you, Cap'n," he said, and then he opened the door for me when Barbossa called back for me to enter.

Barbossa and Turk were seated at the table, obviously having had dinner together since Turk was back among the living.

"Ah, May, come in," Barbossa called, indicating I should sit with them at the table. I sat opposite Turk, and Barbossa offered me rum, which was evidently what they were drinking. I gave Turk a look that told him he was cheating, and he merely shrugged with a grin.

I declined the rum, and Barbossa got right to the point.

"Turk, here, tells me that yer mad at me," he said, his manner pleasant but laced with an undertone that could have been either teasing or mocking.

"I never said that," I argued, giving Turk an accusatory look.

"You all but said it," Turk said, defending himself while he grinned at me.

"Aye, well, it must be true," Barbossa replied, taunting me a little. "Ye didn't bother to wear any perfume fer me tonight."

I said nothing, but recall that my face felt quite warm at that moment. I had thought I'd gotten through dinner the other night without notice of the perfume.

"Perfume?" Turk asked, looking quite amused.

"Aye, Turk. I invited May, here, to dinner the other evenin', and she took the time to doll her hair up and put on perfume fer me."

I still said nothing at that point, irritated as I was. I was angry about being held prisoner, about not being allowed to go ashore, and I was sick to death of Barbossa taunting me. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my composure.

"Not only that, Master Turk," Barbossa continued, apparently enjoying himself at my expense, "she all but threw herself on me the other mornin' on deck. Couldn't keep 'er hands off me."

"Must've been from discussin' a pirate ménage-a-trois," Turk added, joining in the fun. "Got 'erself a little hot and bothered after thinkin' about it."

Turk chuckled a little and took a swig of his rum in front of me, and as angry as I was getting, I directed some of my frustration at him. I quickly stood up, reached across the table, and grabbing the cup out of his hand, dashed it to the floor.

"I specifically said no drinking!" I scolded him. "Your health is still compromised, and until you are back to normal, I can't get off this horrible ship!"

I think Turk was just too shocked to say anything at that moment.

"I am completely fed up with this agreement. I'm sick of pirates!" I said, venting all of my frustration and anger. "And especially, I am completely fed up with you!" I cried, whirling to address Barbossa.

He held his tongue, but narrowed his eyes as he watched me come unglued.

I wasn't done yet.

"You," I said, "are nothing more than an arrogant bully, and a two-bit thief, and I am sick of being taunted by you! I won't tolerate it anymore. If you plan on tossing me overboard, then just hurry up and get it over with, or leave me alone!"

I stood there breathing heavily from the exertion of my temporary insanity.

Barbossa said nothing for a minute, casually took a sip of rum, and then finally he spoke. "I think I preferred when ye compared me to a tragic hero the other night," he said dryly.

"You're nothing of the sort," I hissed, irritated that he opted to make such a sarcastic comment. "You're nothing but a despicable monster."

"Monster is a bit harsh, isn't it?" Turk asked, looking like he was trying not to laugh.

I spun back toward him and leaned both palms on the table. "And what would you call a man that rips infants from their mothers' arms and tosses them overboard?"

Barbossa began to laugh, softly at first, and then leaned back in his chair and tossed his head back. It was only a second or two before Turk began to laugh heartily as well.

Completely horrified, I stood there with my mouth open, not believing what I was witnessing.

Barbossa composed himself after a moment and spoke to Turk. "Master Turk," he asked, still sounding amused, "how many infants have I tossed overboard by now do ye think?"

Turk thought it over for a minute. "Includin' the one yeh grabbed from that woman on the ship headin' to Nassau port six months ago?"

"Aye," Barbossa replied.

"Well," Turk answered, calculating, "that would make it..._none_."

"What?" I said, not sure that I'd heard correctly.

"Ye'll find nothin' that gets attention faster or does a better job of cuttin' down on the bloodshed on either side," Barbossa said evenly, gazing steadily at me.

"Oh." I wasn't quite sure what to say at that point.

"Of course, as a pirate, it doesn't hurt me reputation fer bein' a _monster_," Barbossa added, " especially fer folk as don't know I'm a man of me word...like you, Miss Gray."

My righteous anger completely deflated, I didn't really know what to say.

Barbossa spoke to Turk at that point. "Why don't you see May out? I think ye've been cut off from drinkin' the rest of the night if I not be mistaken."

Turk nodded and stood up, indicating with a jerk of his head toward the door that I should follow.

Not knowing what to say, or how I felt about what just happened, I left without so much as a backward glance, and walked along a ways beside Turk.

"That was quite a tirade you let fly in there, darlin'," he said softly.

I let out a very audible sigh. "I guess it was stupid of me," I replied.

"Yup, but it took balls, if yeh don't mind my sayin' so," Turk said, glancing down at me.

"I suppose now I'm really in trouble with Barbossa," I said, probably sounding quite concerned as I mulled over whether or not I might be tossed back in the brig, or worse, overboard at dawn some morning.

"Nah, not anymore'n usual," Turk said lightly.

Once my anger had worn off, I started to think back to just exactly what I'd said. "I can't believe what I called him to his face," I lamented after a small groan.

"He's been called much worse, even by me," Turk said, starting to grin. "He'll get over it."

"Once he tosses my lifeless body to the sharks, you mean," I said in reply.

"May," Turk said solemnly, "Barbossa would never do that to you."

I glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow.

Turk broke into a wide grin. "He'd really enjoy it a lot more tossin' yer sweet arse to the sharks while yeh were still alive and kickin'."

I finally started to laugh, and so did Turk. We stopped in front of my cabin door.

"Look, May," he said, "I wouldn't worry about tonight. I imagine Barbossa will let up on yeh a little now that yeh've had yer say."

"What makes you say that?" I asked. "He seems to rather enjoy taunting me."

Turk shook his head. "Nah, he's jus' havin' a little fun...wants to see what yer made of, that's all."

I let out another tired sigh.

"Jus' my two shillin's?" Turk offered. "Yeh've got little to worry about if yeh don't do anythin' to cross 'im directly. He'll honor yer agreement for sure."

"I wish I could be as certain as you are," I said.

"Well, I happen to know that he respects yeh for what yeh did a great deal," Turk said, turning to leave me.

I opened my door and hesitated for a minute. "How do you know that?" I asked over my shoulder.

Turk looked back at me and gave me a wink before he walked away. "He told me."

~~o~~

I was just about to open the door to my cabin early the next morning, when someone knocked. Opening it, I discovered Bellamy grinning at me on the other side.

"Michael," I said, somewhat surprised, "good morning. What are you...?"

"Come on," he said, grabbing me my the arm, "Waters is waiting for us."

I frowned at him as he pulled me out of the doorway. "What are you talking about?"

"Barbossa's letting you go ashore," he replied cheerfully, as my mouth dropped open. "I guess Harlow is having a hell of a time getting all the things you wanted straight, and the captain said you might as well go and sort it out yourself."

I made a mental note to apologize to the captain later that day.

"The thing is," Bellamy said, as I trotted up the companionway with him, "we've only got a few hours. Barbossa wants you back with the change of watch with Harlow at midday.

Twenty minutes later I was twenty feet from setting foot on shore.

Jumping out of the boat ahead of me as we hit ground, Bellamy turned and offered me his hand to help me step out of the longboat. As much as I'd felt I'd never get used to the constant motion of the _Rogue_ while we were at sea, after close to two weeks of being on board, I remember how strange it was to set foot on solid ground again.

As I walked, I kept half expecting the ground beneath me to sway, and Bellamy and Waters laughed at me a little when I nearly lost my footing once or twice over the first few feet.

"Strange at first, isn't it?" Waters asked.

I nodded and laughed, elated to be on shore.

"Now," Bellamy said, taking charge of our threesome, "there are some rules to follow."

Waters and I listened as he explained. "First of all, May has to be in the company of both of us at all times, so no wanderin' off." I think he was saying that for my benefit as well as Waters'.

"Second, "Bellamy continued, "we hit the apothecary first, so that she can make sure all is right with the medical supplies, and third, when we're done there, we stick to the east side, where there's likely to be the least trouble."

I had no trouble agreeing to any rules whatsoever. I would have been content at that point to just sit on the shore and revel in the fact that I was off the ship for a few hours, but I followed Bellamy dutifully as we made our way eastward through the streets of Tortuga.

Evidently the east side, where the apothecary was located, was also the locale of other relatively legitimate enterprises that catered to the locals and sailors of all sorts, including pirates. The west side, the less reputable part of an already disreputable town, was where most of the gambling houses, taverns and whorehouses were. Heading deeper south into the port town, one could find a smaller area of well-to do inns, taverns, and high-end brothels that catered primarily to the wealthy merchants and pirates that had enough gold in their pockets.

That early in the morning, the streets were relatively quiet, and Bellamy explained that was the reason morning was the best time to visit Tortuga if I must, as any of the pirates in town from the night before would still be sleeping off a hangover.

It was obvious by the look on my face when we arrived at the shop that housed the apothecary, that the image I had in my mind and what the pirates considered an apothecary were two entirely different things. My orderly, organized and well-labeled vision correlated very little with the haphazard collection of random vials, bottles and tins.

Evidently the keeper of the shop was used to dealing more with sailors and pirates than doctors, and didn't necessarily stock the same things all the time. Supplies were dependant on what he could get shipped in, and what he might have accumulated from other random sources, including surgeon's chests from plundered vessels.

It took us a while to find much of what I needed, and some of it I would have to do without. A few of the items that weren't available in the shop, could be had, I learned from questioning the clerk, if the right amount of coin changed hands.

Aware as I was of just how much swag had been in the hold on the _Rogue_, I had no qualms about spending Barbossa's money. After all, he'd said that he'd have whatever I wanted brought on board, and so I gave the man my order and told him to pack it and put it aside for Harlow.

Our task finished, I felt better about the medical stores I would have to work with, especially my re-stocked bandages and suture. Unfortunately, the errand had eaten up at least an hour of my precious time.

Waters and Bellamy wasted a bit more of my time in an establishment of questionable legitimacy, which obviously specialized in stolen weapons, and here each of them came away with a purchase: a new baldric with a very ornate buckle for one, and a new dagger for the other.

I found it extremely odd to be out on a shopping trip with two pirates, but as I have previously written, things had been rather odd since the day I was kidnapped, and I found that I just had to take things in stride. I kept getting unsavory looks from the two rough-looking men tending shop, and I managed to hurry my escort out after their purchases.

By that point we all agreed that we were starving, and Bellamy came up with the idea of taking an early lunch a short way away at a quiet little cove that he suggested I might find quaint and peaceful. We bought fresh bread, cheese, mangoes and two bottles of wine, and Bellamy led the way.

Away from town, things got even stranger as I picnicked with two pirates, each of us passing the wine from one to the other in turn as we had no glasses, and making short work of the food.

When we were done eating, Waters, having had little more to drink than either Bellamy or myself, decided at that moment, after sitting for a while in the hot Tortuga sun, that he was going for a swim. He quickly stripped, and I had to make it a point to avert my eyes in the other direction, as he left his clothes in a pile and headed for the waves.

Bellamy and I sat together laughing at our companion as he ran and dove into the surf with a war cry.

I wished at that moment that I could have sat there all afternoon, and never return to the pirate ship. Sitting in the sun on the picturesque beach with a cool ocean breeze stirring my hair, I could have been content there for quite some time.

I was watching the waves break when Bellamy spoke, squinting a little in the bright light. "You know, May, this is the first time I think I've seen you look completely at ease since I met you."

I smiled at him. "That must be because it's the first moment I've been off the ship since you met me."

"I guess pirates don't agree with you," he said, squinting at me as he grinned, from the sun in his eyes still.

"Do they agree with anybody?" I asked, teasing him.

He scooted over to sit next to me so he wouldn't have to look into the sun while he talked, and we sat there in companionable silence for a moment while Waters started to call for company.

"I'm sorry about what you've had to go through," Bellamy suddenly said.

I shrugged a little. "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

"I guess so," he answered, "but still, it doesn't seem right. You're too fine a lady to have to put up with the likes of pirates like us."

I smiled at him again, thinking him sweet for caring about what had happened to me. "Oh, some of you aren't so bad."

"Really?" he asked, glancing for a moment at where Waters was still shouting in our direction, trying to get Bellamy to join him.

"Of course. If it weren't for you giving up part of your shore leave, I wouldn't have been able to get off the ship," I replied. "By the way, Michael, it means a lot to me. I know that you'd probably like to be off doing other things besides playing body guard to me."

Bellamy gave me a sly look. "Oh, I don't know, May. I can think of worse ways to spend a morning than guarding your body."

I laughed, surprised he would say such a thing. "Michael Bellamy!" I exclaimed. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Just a little," he said, still smiling.

"Bellamy!" Waters was still calling to his shipmate. "Get yer arse in here! It's great!"

"Go on with you," I said, shooing him away. "I'll actually have a completely pirate-free moment."

Bellamy laughed as he stood up and pulled off his shirt, kicking off his boots at the same time. "You could join us, you know," he said.

"I'll keep my eyes closed until you get in the water," he continued, roguish grin still in place. "Well, I at least promise to keep Waters' eyes closed, at any rate."

"Tempted as I am by that water, Mr. Bellamy," I said with a laugh, "I have not had anywhere near enough wine that I might decide to lose my dress and swim naked with two notorious pirates."

"How about if I get another bottle?" he asked, reaching for his trousers.

"Pass, thank you," I said, averting my eyes again as he let them drop. He laughed again, and ran with a yell to dive in the waves with Waters, both of them behaving like naughty school boys skipping afternoon class to go for a dip.

As much as I would like to maintain that I kept my eyes covered until he reached the water, I confess it would be a fabrication, and all I will say on the matter is that Bellamy appeared to be extremely fit -entirely from a medical perspective, of course.

They swam for a few more minutes, and when it became apparent that they were headed toward shore, I averted my eyes one more time, and kept them focused firmly at the sand at their feet as they dressed. One thing I can tell you about pirates is they're not especially shy about shucking their clothes, women present or not.

Bellamy pulled on his boots, as Waters shrugged his shirt on over his head, and then glanced skyward. I knew what he was thinking...it was nearly noon, and time for them to escort me back to the boats where Harlow and the first crew returning from shore leave would take me once again back aboard the _Rogue Wave_.

~~o~~

**A/N**: Of course, this second part of the chapter is a tiny nod to the beach scene with Jack and Elizabeth, and because I wanted to have some more fun playing with naked pirates.

Wait….maybe I should rephrase that. ;)

About the last couple of chapters –the nod to James Hook's famous predicament with the crocodile was intentional. The similarity to any and all Star Trek doctors was not, but subconsciously it's probably why that line of May's about being a doctor and not a pirate felt so right! ;)

The entire next chapter is time that Madeline spends with Barbossa later that day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen ~*~**

**--**

_They swam for a few more minutes, and when it became apparent that they were headed toward shore, I averted my eyes one more time, and kept them focused firmly at the sand at their feet as they dressed. One thing I can tell you about pirates is they're not especially shy about shucking their clothes, women present or not._

_Bellamy pulled on his boots, as Waters shrugged his shirt on over his head, and then glanced skyward. I knew what he was thinking...it was nearly noon, and time for them to escort me back to the boats where Harlow and the first crew returning from shore leave would take me once again back aboard the Rogue Wave._

**--**

If you ever find yourself climbing out of a longboat and up the side of a sailing ship, I would recommend that you ask to go last if you are with a group of pirates, especially if you are wearing a dress. I nearly learned my lesson the hard way until I realized that Stoker was going to be climbing the ladder right behind me, and he was already crowding me unpleasantly before I got to the first rung.

I insisted he go first to show me how it was done, and there wasn't really anyway he could argue. Aside from the fact that I didn't want him looking up my dress, I wanted him where I would be able to keep an eye on him. The man gave me the willies, and I didn't like to be anywhere near him.

Finally making it to the top and climbing back on board, I felt my spirits sink a little as my feet touched the deck again. My time ashore had been precious, and all the more so because it had been so short.

I was at a loss as to what to do at that point. Bellamy and Waters had stayed ashore, and I didn't feel much like reading, depressed as I was. I finally decided to busy myself with unpacking and organizing the ship's new medical supplies, and it took me an hour to arrange everything the way I wanted it. When I was finished with it, I decided that I wanted to get back out in the fresher air above.

I leaned on the port railing, looking back out to sea and watching the late afternoon sun dropping toward the horizon, feeling very tired at that point. I rubbed my eyes for a moment, thinking that I might retire to my cabin, but when I opened them, movement at the harbor's boundary caught my attention. Scrutinizing what it was more carefully, I realized that another ship was reefing sail and readying to join those that were already at anchor.

The ship rounding the point of land would have made for a lovely picture, if it weren't for the fact that at that moment, she hoisted her colors, and a black field with a white emblem of some sort across it snapped open smartly in the breeze.

I looked around the deck, thinking to point the ship out to someone, but I found that I was, for the moment, alone. While I had no idea who this particular flag belonged to, one thing I knew was certain –another Pirate Lord's ship was about to join the _Rogue_ in the cove. I decided at that point that Barbossa should probably know.

Once more, I stood outside the captain's cabin and knocked. At first there was no answer, and I was afraid he'd gone ashore. I knocked again, resolved to go and find Harlow if he didn't answer. He finally did, and I opened the cabin door and slipped inside.

Barbossa looked up from where he was leaning on his hands over the same map spread out across the table as I had seen before. He looked surprised for a moment to see me.

"Good afternoon," he said evenly, "did ye enjoy yer time ashore?"

"Yes, thank you," I said. "I believe it did me some good."

"Good," Barbossa said distractedly, starting to return to his map.

"Captain," I said, trying to get his attention again. "May I have a word?"

He looked up at me again from where he was obviously puzzled about something to do with the drawing on the table. "Apologies, May," he replied, then giving me his complete attention. "What is that ye want?"

"Two things," I began. "First, I wanted to apologize for..."

Barbossa held up a hand to cut me off. "No need fer it. I think we have a clearer understandin' of each other at this point, Doctor. Good enough to be gettin' on with, aye?" His statement was accompanied by that slight roguish smile.

I understood that he just wanted to let the matter drop and do the best we could to get through the rest of our agreement. "Alright, then," I said, agreeing with a small smile of my own.

"Good. What was the second thing ye wanted to say?" he asked, curious.

"I thought I might not be entirely mistaken in thinking that you would want to know about the ship entering the harbor, " I replied.

"Ship?" he asked, straightening off the table and frowning. He started to walk slowly around the table toward me. "What ship?"

"I don't know, but I figured it might be the ship of another Pirate Lord if it's hoisted its colors," I explained.

"Merda!" he exclaimed, grabbing his spyglass from the table, and hurrying past me to fling open the cabin door and rush out on deck.

I picked up my skirts and ran after him, alarmed by his reaction. He was standing at the rail with the glass to his eye, and after a minute he visibly relaxed. "Chevalle," was all he said.

"Captain?" I asked, hoping for some sort of explanation.

He turned and handed me the spyglass, and pointed toward the ship. "See that flag?" he asked, as I put the glass to my own eye. "The dagger, skull, and heart are the colors of Capitaine Chevalle, Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea," Barbossa informed me. "You were right to let me know of his arrival."

"Is he dangerous?" I asked, handing back the glass.

"Of course," Barbossa replied with a smirk, "but if what ye really be askin' is if he's a threat to us?" He shook his head to answer. "Chevalle and I have an understandin'," he said.

Barbossa collapsed the spyglass, and now appearing relatively unconcerned about the other pirate ship, returned to his cabin. Pausing at the doorway he turned and spoke to me again. "Might I ask somethin' of you, May?"

I shrugged and nodded.

"Do ye speak Latin?" he asked.

"Latin?" I asked, thinking it was probably one of the least likely things he could have possibly asked me. "Not fluently, of course, but I know a bit from my medical training. I can understand it if I read it better than I could possibly speak any," I answered. "Why?"

He said nothing but beckoned me to follow him back into his cabin, and returned to stand by the map.

"Know ye the meaning of 'onama'?" he asked.

I frowned, and thought about it. It wasn't a word I knew and I shook my head. "How is it used?"

He beckoned to me again and pointed to the map as I went to join him on the other side of the table. It was in fact, the map I had seen before, with the Portuguese notations made in the margins. "Here." He tapped his finger on the lower left corner.

There was writing that did appear to be in Latin- multiple lines or stanzas flowing down the page in a neat, elegant script after some sort of heading or title.

The second line after the heading ended in the word 'onama' as he'd said, and the line of the first stanza said something about a wolf. Now intrigued, I read the line again, trying to translate.

Barbossa was standing quite close and suddenly put his hand on my arm, startling me. I would have yanked my arm away if it weren't for the undertone of urgency in his voice. "May," he said quietly, so as not to alarm me further, "don't move." The troubled look on his face concerned me greatly, and I instantly complied with his order.

I froze on the spot as I realized his gaze was focused near my shoulder, and watched out of the corner of my eye as he slowly drew his dagger with his free hand. I am sure he felt me tense as he raised the pearl-handled blade, and he spoke again, extending the knife closer to me very slowly. "Steady, lass. Don't move," he repeated.

I managed to glance sideways at him, and the look he gave me conveyed that he wanted my trust. I figured if he meant me harm at that moment, I would certainly know already.

Holding very still, I felt him lean closer, somewhat behind me, and then in a sudden movement that caused me to flinch despite my best efforts, he swept _something_ off my back with the flat of the blade, and I heard it _plunk_ on the floor as he drew me away a step or two. He nodded at me when I looked at him and let go of my arm, indicating I could relax.

"There," he said, pointing at the floor.

I turned around to see what was there, and involuntarily gave a little cry and jumped. Scurrying across the cabin floor away from us with its tail arched over it's back, was a reddish brown scorpion, about three inches long.

"He might 'ave given' you a nasty surprise," Barbossa said casually, walking over to lean down and study the foul little monster, while I tried to still my racing heart.

"Must have hitched a ride on yer dress back from shore," he explained. He quickly impaled the scorpion on the end of the dagger and crossed to the door, stepping out of the cabin for a minute to dispose of it.

While I am not entirely squeamish about creatures such as snakes, and rats and the like, the scorpion was a different matter altogether, and it took me a minute to get rid of the crawling sensation that rose along my neck as I thought of that thing having been on me for a while by then.

I looked up when Barbossa returned. "Thank you," I said sincerely.

"Aye, yer welcome," he said, "but we'd best be sure that was the only one." And with that he stepped close to me again, and began gently shaking out the skirt of my dress and my sleeves, while I waited for him to finish his inspection. He came to stand behind me, and I felt myself tense again as his fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he gently moved my hair to make sure I carried no more hitchhikers.

"There," he said, satisfied that the scorpion had been the only one, "now ye'll not be leavin' any behind that I might find the hard way." He let my hair slip through his fingers slowly and then came round to stand next to me by the table again, watching me expectantly.

Suddenly feeling uneasy with how close he was still standing to me, I stepped away under pretext of leaning over to study the map again. "I must have picked that up on the way back from the beach," I said, looking for something to fill the quiet that fell in the cabin for a moment.

"The beach?" he asked. "Yeh spent the morning at the beach?"

"Yes," I explained, "Waters and Bellamy decided that they wanted to go swimming."

Barbossa smirked. "I imagine 'twould be without their clothes?"

I felt my face getting warm. "Well...yes."

He laughed. "I don't suppose ye felt inclined to join them, did yeh?"

I felt myself getting a tiny bit defensive. "Of course not," I said, with a touch of indignation. "I can't swim."

"Of course not," he returned, his tone slightly mocking. "I don't picture ye being one to splash about naked in the surf with Master _Bellamy,_ anyway," he said, an odd edge to the way he said Bellamy's name.

Another brief moment of uneasy silence fell, but it was Barbossa who interrupted it this time. "So," he said casually, returning to the map, "have ye any ideas?"

Relieved to be talking about something else, I turned my attention to the map as well.

"I don't know this word," I admitted. "Here, this first line ...nomen, filius, bellum, lupus," I muttered as I spoke a few of the words out loud and spent a few minutes piecing it together. "The rest of this says 'Know my name -son of war, son of wolf'. What does that mean?"

Barbossa shrugged, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes that told me I had just taken him a tiny step further than he'd already gotten in deciphering some of the map. "Father Connor would be unhappy if he knew how little of me Latin I recall," he said, somewhat amused.

"Father Connor?" I asked, thinking it odd to consider the possibility of this pirate associating with a man of God.

"Aye, he taught me readin' and writin' as a lad," Barbossa explained, "as well as a bit of Latin."

"Not enough to read all of this, though," he went on, sweeping his hand over the map. "Can ye read any more of it?"

I returned to study the map again. The line that was giving us trouble said, 'know my _onama _–Father of river, father of sea.' It took me a several long minutes to puzzle it out and then I informed Barbossa of the translation.

"Ha! With yer help I might yet figure this bastard out!" Barbossa looked thrilled at that point. "I should have kidnapped a pretty doctor a long time ago, if that be what it takes to puzzle this together!" He was up and pacing, animated now at the thought of solving the mystery.

I smiled despite myself at his offhand compliment, and the fact that he now looked like a boy that had been given a new pony as a birthday gift. He crossed again toward me, pointing at the map. "What else?" He suddenly grabbed his chair and slid it behind me, evidently to make sure I was comfortable. I got the impression that I wasn't going anywhere for a while and sat down.

He drew another chair up alongside mine, after retrieving ink, quill and paper, ready to act as my scribe. I repeated the first two lines and he wrote them down dutifully. I noticed the angular writing he now covered the paper with matched that of the notations made in Portuguese on the map.

"You wrote this?" I asked, pointing to the margins. "Why did you write this in Portuguese?

He met my eyes steadily for a moment. "There be few pirates that can both read, and understand Portuguese," he said with a sly smile.

I understood. It was a way to ensure that Barbossa was the only one on the ship that understood the notations. With the fact that it was highly unlikely that many of the rest of the crew could read, let alone read Latin or Portuguese, the information contained on the map wouldn't ever be available to the other pirates. Barbossa would remain in sole possession of its secrets. I made myself a mental note to remember not to underestimate the man again.

Barbossa finished writing, and quill in hand, looked at me expectantly. "What else?" he asked, greedy now for more information.

I bent to return to my translating, but a thought caused me to look back up at him. I decided to go out on a limb. "I believe, Captain, that I can translate most of the rest of this," I said, " but I wonder just what this information might be worth to you?"

I tried to meet his stare as steadily as I could as the instantaneous flash of anger flared and then was gone. A moment later a wry grin replaced it. "We have a clearer understandin' of each other than I thought, May. What is it you want?"

"I want to get off this ship," I informed him. "Surely this information is worth letting me go?"

Barbossa thought it over. "I intend to let you go. 'Twas part of our agreement –the next suitable port, once Turk is completely recovered. Not Tortuga."

I got the impression he'd just given the final word on the matter. "Well, then, I want another turn off this ship while we're in port...and more than three hours," I added before we struck the accord.

"Done," Barbossa said. "Now, if ye'd be so kind?" he said, pointing at the map again.

I worked at the next line for a few minutes and frowned. "Here's 'onama' again," I said. "Alright, I've got it. I think this line is 'Know my onama –Mother of victory, mother of air."

Barbossa tapped the feathered quill thoughtfully against his beard for a minute. "'Tis a riddle, I'll wager, knowing blasted Morgan."

"Morgan?" I asked, wondering what he was referring to.

"Aye, surely even you have heard of Captain Morgan, Doctor?" he replied.

"Of course," I said, truthfully. I imagined there wasn't a soul that had ever spent any time in the Caribbean that hadn't heard of the infamous pirate. "My uncle spoke of him several times."

"Yer uncle?" Barbossa asked, casually.

"Yes." Seeing that the captain wanted a bit more explanation, I provided it for him. "I grew up with my grandfather, father and his two brothers, as I already told you. While my grandfather, father and one uncle were all men of medicine, my father's second brother was a merchant sailor."

"I see," Barbossa. "He traveled the Caribbean, did he?"

"Yes, that's how I ended up in Jamaica," I explained. "I was having difficulty securing a position back home, and my uncle told me how much the colonies were in need of physicians."

Barbossa frowned. "How is it that ye failed to find work as a doctor, May? By my observation yer more than qualified..."

He must have seen the look on my face and suddenly guessed the answer. "It's because yer a woman," he surmised.

I sighed and nodded. This was not one of my favorite topics. "I found work of course, but even the practices that would take me on as an apprentice treated me as nothing more than a glorified assistant. I was given the task of medicating and cleaning up after patients, running errands, washing floors, ordering supplies..."

I didn't notice my own voice starting to take on a bitter note. "I wasn't allowed to treat or diagnose, or do surgery. If I tried to offer ideas on treatment, I basically got a pat on the head and was told to run along and do something useful."

"Like mop the floor," Barbossa added, understanding my predicament.

"Exactly. It didn't matter to any of my employers that I'd graduated top in my class..."

"Did you?" Barbossa asked, interrupting me unintentionally.

"Yes," I answered bitterly.

"Ye don't seem too pleased about it," he observed, obviously hearing the resentment in my voice.

I waved him off a little. "Yes, well it's a long story," I said, about to drop the subject. "I wouldn't want to bore you."

Barbossa slid his chair back and stood. He crossed to a small cabinet against the wall and pulled out a bottle of rum, poured two measures and returned with them to the table. He set one in front of me and sat down.

"I'm curious," he said, taking a sip of his drink, "and I'd hardly consider you boring, May." He gave me a smile that passed for charming. "I've told ye somethin' about mesself, now tell me somethin' about you."

"What about the map?" I asked, teasing him a little.

"It's vexed me fer five or six years, May," he said. "Another hour matters not."

"Alright," I agreed. I took a small sip of the strong drink in front of me, and proceed to tell the pirate my story.

--


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter** **Fourteen ~*~**

**--**

_Barbossa slid his chair back and stood. He crossed to a small cabinet against the wall and pulled out a bottle of rum, poured two measures and returned with them to the table. He set one in front of me and sat down._

_"I'm curious," he said, taking a sip of his drink, "and I'd hardly consider you boring, May." He gave me a smile that passed for charming. "I've told ye somethin' about mesself, now tell me somethin' about you."_

_"What about the map?" I asked, teasing him a little._

_"It's vexed me fer five or six years, May," he said. "Another hour matters not."_

_"Alright," I agreed. I took a small sip of the strong drink in front of me, and proceed to tell the pirate my story._

**--**

While I was hesitant at first to talk about myself to Barbossa, I found that he was actually an attentive and polite listener. What I also know about him now, is that anything you ever tell him gets soaked up like water by a sponge and filed away for later reference.

As I began the tale of my trials and tribulations as a woman entering the male-dominated medical field, I was acutely aware of just how odd it was to be sitting in that cabin with the same pirate that had kidnapped me not two weeks earlier. While I won't say that I found him completely unthreatening by that point, I agreed with him that we'd come to a mutual understanding based on respect for each other's position and our pact.

I told him of how it started when I wanted to apply to the medical college, and how it took everything I had to convince the dean that I should be allowed to enter. Both my grandfather and father, extremely well-respected physicians, submitted letters on my behalf, as did several of their colleagues who had known mesince I was a little girl, verifying that I was certainly capable of meeting the challenges that training as a doctor would require.

I told him how I thought the dean would have very much liked to have made the easier decision, and turned me down, but I think he was a man that knew that the right thing is not always the easiest, and after great deliberation, sent me a letter welcoming me to the entering class that year.

The class of twenty-five, in addition to myself, would include twenty-four men, most who regarded me as little more than a curiosity, and wrote off my participation in our first lectures as something I had done on a whim.

As it became clear as the weeks wore on, that I was not going to be turned aside lightly by the daunting hours required or the enormous amount of reading, a few of them came to respect me for sticking with my studies. Unfortunately, while most of the others still considered my presence to be of little consequence, several of them started to resent that I had been allowed to stay, never mind admitted at all, and that's when the trouble began.

What I quickly learned, as some of my classmates set out to undermine my credibility by accusing me of cheating, and constantly insinuating that I didn't have what it took to be a doctor, was that if I was going to make it through to graduate from the medical college, I would not be able to get by just with adequate marks, but that I would have to excel at anything and everything my male counterparts did.

I didn't just want to be good enough to graduate with them, I wanted to exceed any of their lowly expectations of me to a point where they would have no choice but to acknowledge that I was damn well qualified. It became an obsession, and I went the next few years learning to do with very little sleep, and no recreation at all.

If my classmates studied for four hours, I studied for six. If my colleagues took time off to go swimming, I studied. If we were on holiday, I had my grandfather or father quiz me until I made them crazy.

Even when most of the class took off one beautiful hot afternoon to head for the lake, I was the only one that could be found in the classroom with a newly acquired cadaver, dissecting and exploring, trying to make as much sense of the mysteries of the human form as I could.

I told Barbossa about how Nigel Smollet, one of my chief critics in the class, managed to shut the door and lock me in the small room where the new cadavers were held for dissection, and that I'd been forced to spend the entire night in there since no one heard me screaming or pounding to get out. He said it was well known that I tended to be flighty and vague, and that I must have just carelessly allowed the door to slam shut behind me.

Of course, he and I both knew better, and I resolved to have my revenge. If I had been obsessed with my desire to excel before, I was now consumed by it. Nigel was probably the second most capable student in the class, as I grudgingly had to admit, but I promised myself that he would not be the first.

I ignored his daily ridicule and insinuations that I was inferior, and made better marks on almost every exam. Sometimes not by much, but almost always better.

Then came the day that he started the rumor. It wouldn't have been so damaging if he hadn't bullied several of his companions in backing him up, and the story of how I'd been exchanging favors of sexual nature with several of the professors in return for my good grades began to gather steam.

It was an obvious but brilliant ploy to get me expelled on his part –one that he never could have perpetrated with a male colleague. Too many of my peers, even if I was on good terms with them, were willing to believe it, and I think it stemmed from the fact that many of them may have liked me, but still didn't relish the thought of being beaten by a woman at anything.

Of course, the professors denied any wrong doing, since there had been none on either my part or theirs, but the rest of the staff would have expected them to deny the accusations even if they were true, so it didn't help my cause much.

The fact that I had spent so much extra time alone with some of them, debating theory and pestering them with questions, only served to support Nigel's rumor.

I was on the verge of being expelled for cheating and scandal only a few months before I would take my final exams, and the dean himself was in a quandary as to what to do.

Although I am sure he knew me and the situation well enough to know there was no basis for the accusations other than a petty attempt to attack my character and eliminate Nigel's principal competition for the coveted top spot in the class, he was under a lot of pressure to make the embarrassing matter disappear from the college.

It was only my desperate pleas that were keeping me in school those next few weeks, and unhappy that I had managed to cling to my tentative hold on the top rank in the class so long, Nigel actually became the reason I was never expelled.

Pretending to be defending my side of things, Nigel approached the dean with his false concerns that I had been wronged and suggested a way to vindicate myself. The dean, plagued on all sides about the matter, seized upon the idea at once, and I was soon informed that I would be allowed to sit for my boards.

However, while the rest of my classmates would spend the next two months preparing for their tests and practical exams. I was going to be put on the spot to prove or disprove once and for all, whether I had actually learned as much as I claimed, or whether I had earned the marks by less than honorable means.

I remembered it like it was yesterday, the afternoon I was told I had one week to prepare for my trial by examination, as well as the feeling of panic that set in. I might have actually given up at that point if it weren't for my family.

Five days before I was to have my examination, my father, my grandfather, and my uncles all showed up at the college, helped me pack up my books, notes and a skeleton we acquired from the anatomy department and moved me to an inn several miles away.

My uncle, the seaman, took care of making sure we had meals provided regularly, and served periodically as a faux patient, as the two doctors and veterinary surgeon who loved me so dearly, put me through days of an exacting, rigorous, and exhausting examination of their own.

I daresay what they did might have been worse than what the examiners could come up with, but the grueling test they challenged me with was probably the one thing that kept me from being expelled.

I remember one of the last conversations I ever had with my grandfather the morning of my examination at the college. After I had hugged my uncles and my father, and got ready to climb in the carriage to be driven to the college that early morning, my grandfather had hugged me and told me that whether I passed or not didn't matter to him. He told me he was never prouder of anyone, even his sons, and that he would love me as much as he ever had, pass or fail.

I think it was his last words before I was taken away by the carriage that had the final say in how I did that morning. I might have otherwise been too upset and too nervous to do as well as I did, but when my grandfather managed to open up the broader perspective for me about what was important, it took unbearable quantities of pressure away.

When I finished the grueling oral examinations that lasted over six hours, there wasn't a member of the college or my class that had any doubt that I had mastered all of the material to a greater extent than any of them could have possibly guessed, and I think it became clear that I had probably been much too busy studying all year to have time to have any dalliances with my professors.

Nigel, of course, was outraged that I hadn't managed to fail miserably under pressure, and faced the fact that he had to pass his own exams in spectacular fashion in order to overcome the very narrow margin I still held in grades.

While the rest of my classmates prepared for their boards, I continued to remain at the college despite the fact that there was no doubt that I would be graduating. I daresay many of them were the better for it as they now used me as a tutor to quiz them and help them prepare.

A week before the examination, a new matter arose which added even more drama to the situation. The dean informed us one morning, that Monsieur Jacques Dumond, the famous French surgeon, would be looking for a new apprentice, and would consider the top member of our class if that person met his qualifications.

Now, not only would the position as valedictorian of our class be riding on the outcome of Nigel's exams, but so would the chance to possibly study with one of France's most pioneering surgeons.

To give him the credit he is due, Nigel, despite the scrutiny he was under, did remarkably well on his exams, and if it weren't for the fact that my marks had been ever so slightly better during the year, we would have ended up in a tie. To my greatest satisfaction, when the final marks were posted that week, it was my name that held the top rank in the class, with Nigel's written just underneath.

I immediately sent a letter home, and began to think of what I wanted to say in front of the graduation ceremony that would be held the next week, as it was tradition that the valedictorian was required to give an address.

As things turned out, Nigel had not had his last say in the matter, and I needn't have spent all the time that I did agonizing over exactly what would be most appropriate in my speech.

Nigel, like myself, came from a long line of physicians, and his father, a well-to-do surgeon from London, took matters into his own hands when he heard that 'the girl' had taken top honors, beating out his son.

Dangling a generous contribution in front of the collective nose of the trustees, Dr. Smollet convinced them that somehow it was not _seemly_ to have a woman stand up in front of a college of men to give the final address.

He managed to convince them that it broke with a very long-standing tradition, and that in addition, although I had passed my exams, no one had ever thoroughly disproved what I'd been accused of. He feared it would be a black mark in the college's history to have such a person of _questionable integrity_ be awarded the top honors.

The trustees, despite everything that the dean said to defend me, voted in the end to allow me to be ranked as the first in my class, but decreed that the title of valedictorian would be conferred upon the top male graduate, who was, of course, Nigel.

He was insufferably arrogant after that, and insisted that he be the only one given the honor of interviewing with Monsieur Dumond. I must give credit to the dean for telling him, in no uncertain terms, that come hell or high water, I was going to be given the chance as well, and if he had anything to say about it, he would cast his recommendation with me.

The day I had my interview with Monsieur Dumond, I passed Nigel in the hall just after he had spoken with the man. The smug look he wore said everything that he was thinking. He knew that despite the fact I had succeeded so far, that it was very unlikely that I would be chosen for the position once again, because of my sex.

But what Nigel didn't know, was that Monsieur Dumond, being French, was much more open minded about women in medicine than his English counterparts, and that one of the main reasons he had come to our college at all was because he had heard there was an exceptionally driven student who showed great promise in the field of surgery.

It really hadn't mattered to him whether I was a woman or a man, and it was actually only after he'd arrived and gotten wind of the politics that were in play at the college that he understood the situation, probably better than any of the trustees or my classmates did.

My interview, although grueling, went very well, and when I took my leave of Monsieur Dumond, I left knowing that I had one small advantage over my classmate, and it had absolutely nothing to do with being a woman. Well, maybe it was indirectly related, but either way I had my late mother to thank.

In addition to making sure that I held my tongue if I didn't have a kind word to say, my mother, in order to try to counter the effects living with so many men had on me, was determined that if I was to be raised as a proper lady, I should be educated in a second language, and she schooled me mercilessly in the language of romance.

By the time she died, even though I spent endless hours in the woods with my father, learned to ride from my uncle the veterinary surgeon, and learned to shoot from my uncle the sailor on his infrequent trips home, she managed to see to it that I had a firm grip on becoming bilingual.

What Nigel didn't know, and wouldn't until after graduation, was that my interview with Monsieur Dumond, unlike his, and to the older surgeon's great delight, had been conducted almost entirely in his native French.

--

By the time I neared the end of the story I'd been telling Barbossa, I was a little light-headed from absently sipping at my rum while I'd been speaking.

He'd been silent almost the entire time I'd been talking, but finally spoke up from where he sat toying with his own cup. "Might I ask a question about yer story?" Barbossa asked.

"Of course," I replied, wondering what it was he would ask me.

"Ye won't take offense?" he inquired. His manner seemed to indicate that whatever he wanted to ask was meant in all seriousness.

I smiled a little. "I don't know," I replied lightly, quite curious about what the pirate wanted to ask that he felt might possibly offend me, "but go ahead and ask."

He nodded and stared into the rum in the cup he was holding. "This Nigel ye spoke of," he began, "the things he did were out of spite, aye?"

My brow knit together a little at his question. "Spite? How do you mean?"

Barbossa gave me a hint of a smile, but I didn't sense any sarcasm in his voice.

"Hard feelin's at bein' rejected by a smart, pretty woman," he replied, watching where I was blushing across the table from him at the fact that he'd sensed quite accurately there was more to my story than I'd told.

"I'm curious. Did yeh turn 'im down outright, or did ye walk away from him when ye knew 'twas a mistake?" he asked, watching to see what my answer would be.

I decided after a moment that I would answer him. "He wanted me to leave school...to give up being a doctor...said I should spend my time at home being a wife and a mother, and not playing at some imagined career," I said, staring at the table blankly. "If I'd married him I'd be stuck in London with him, the pompous arse, and I never would have become a doctor."

"Well," Barbossa said, his manner a little less serious, "Nigel's loss."

I smiled at him. "I like to think so," I said with a laugh.

"So, ye never gave yer speech?" he asked, changing the subject.

I shook my head. "No, but at that point I couldn't have cared less," I said truthfully.

He tossed his head back and drained the last swallow of rum he had left, and set the mug back on the table. "And Monsieur Dumond was who ye learned to do that right smart amputation from?"

I smiled at him again and nodded, realizing that he'd remembered I'd said that I'd learned my suturing technique from a French surgeon the day of the storm and the surgery.

"I'll have to remind meself to only kidnap French–trained doctors, in that case," Barbossa remarked smartly.

"Oh, are you setting up an interview process for captive physicians, now?" I asked with good-natured sarcasm.

"Aye, but me standards are likely to be quite high," he said, teasing me back.

I ran a hand back through my hair absently, feeling a little sleepy and lazy at that moment from drinking nearly the whole measure of rum. "And would I meet your high standards, Captain Barbossa?" I asked, teasing him again.

"'Tis you who have set them," he replied, no trace of sarcasm in his voice as his steel-blue eyes met mine steadily.

I wasn't quite sure how I felt about either that look or the meaning of his comment, and I looked away first, once again feeling my face become a bit warm.

"Mayhap ye might assist me again tomorrow with the map?" he asked, standing and seeming as if he might actually be giving me a choice. I rather doubted it, but if he was going to be so charmingly civil at the moment, I thought it best not to refuse.

"What about our agreement?" I asked, wanting to be sure I managed to get off the _Rogue_ again for a while. I stood up, likewise.

"Help me in the mornin' with the map, and tomorrow evenin' you may go ashore again," he replied.

"Done," I said. I set down the empty cup in my hand and headed for the door.

Barbossa spoke once more before I made it out the door. "'Tis my opinion that ye would have given a fine speech, May," he said quietly.

"Thank you," I said over my shoulder, not trusting myself to look at him. I closed the door behind me once I was through, and feeling very confused at that moment, went to my little closet of a cabin.

The thing that was vexing me so, was that the kindest words of praise I'd heard in a very long while were coming from a man who had been responsible for the death of my companion a handful of days before.

While I very much was trying to cling to the principle that his ends couldn't justify his means, the fly in the ointment was the fact that his ends were to save me from being murdered by the rest of his crew.

He had done what was necessary to achieve that, and although I still had nightmares about Cornelia being tossed overboard, I was inclined not to bemoan the fact that I was indeed, still alive because of him.

The fact that Cornelia had treated me horribly, and in the end threatened to have me hung because she was irritated that I was wearing her dress, and upset that I had helped save Turk's life, was making it more and more difficult to feel bad that she was gone.

Likewise, even though I'd found that Barbossa could be harsh, and even cruel at times, my voyage on the _Rogue Wave_ had proven him so far to be a man of some honor despite the fact that his principles were more than a bit skewed. I didn't think I could remotely say the same thing about Cornelia.

I read for a long while after that, only getting through about ten pages as I continued to read the same thing over and over, not absorbing anything because of my distracting thoughts about the fact that I was beginning to understand Captain Barbossa a lot more than I cared to admit.

--

A/N: Many of you already know that Smollet's name is a reference to the captain of the _Hispaniola_ in Treasure Island.

I hope you enoyed finding out more about Madeline. This chapter is the only time that I venture off to tell a story of that length about her background.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen ~*~**

**--**

_The thing that was vexing me so, was that the kindest words of praise I'd heard in a very long while were coming from a man who had been responsible for the death of my companion a handful of days before._

_While I very much was trying to cling to the principle that his ends couldn't justify his means, the fly in the ointment was the fact that his ends were to save me from being murdered by the rest of his crew._

_He had done what was necessary to achieve that, and although I still had nightmares about Cornelia being tossed overboard, I was inclined not to bemoan the fact that I was indeed, still alive because of him._

_The fact that Cornelia had treated me horribly, and in the end threatened to have me hung because she was irritated that I was wearing her dress, and upset that I had helped save Turk's life, was making it more and more difficult to feel bad that she was gone._

_Likewise, even though I'd found that Barbossa could be harsh, and even cruel at times, my voyage on the Rogue Wave had proven him so far to be a man of some honor despite the fact that his principles were more than a bit skewed. I didn't think I could remotely say the same thing about Cornelia._

_I read for a long while after that, only getting through about ten pages as I continued to read the same thing over and over, not absorbing anything because of my distracting thoughts about the fact that I was beginning to understand Captain Barbossa a lot more than I cared to admit._

**--**

The next morning I was up and dressed quite early, as I hadn't slept well the night before, and had given up trying to get any more sleep sometime after dawn. It was just as well, as a knock sounded on my door just about the time I finished the last plait of the braid I'd pulled my hair into.

Turk stood on the other side of the door. "You up already?" he asked, obviously not wanting to disturb me.

"Yes, I'm a bit of an early riser," I replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Yeh'd said yeh wanted to remove these stitches today," Turk said, indicating the remainder of his arm. "I was wondering if we can get it over with...they're itching me somethin' fierce."

"Alright," I laughed. "Let's go up where the lighting is better." I took a pair of tiny scissors and followed the big man up the companionway to where the early morning sun shone on deck. I removed his bandage, and set about clipping the dozens of sutures that ran along the border of the wound.

"I still half expect to see my fingers a lot of the time," Turk commented as I worked. "Heard it called phantom pain before and thought it a load of shit...well, not so much anymore."

I gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm really sorry, Turk," I said. "If there had been any way I could have saved your arm..."

"Nah, don't fret yer pretty head about it," Turk said jovially. "Barbossa said it was pretty well mangled and would have been useless anyway. 'Sides I got another perfectly good one, my leg's nearly back to normal, and all me important bits are still in working order."

"Well, I'm glad you're keeping such a healthy perspective," I said, laughing despite myself at his comment.

Turk winked at me. "I'd be happy to show you just how healthy, if yeh like?" he said. I already knew he was joking harmlessly.

"You know, Turk," I said, still concentrating on cutting out the fine silk sutures, "there are parts that I can remove much faster than an arm." I smiled sweetly.

"That's not even funny," he said, knitting his brow together.

"What's not funny?" Barbossa's voice asked, from where he'd approached from across the deck.

Turk pointed a finger at me while I worked. "She just threatened to cut off me important bits," he said, laughing a little.

Barbossa raised an eyebrow, obviously amused at his friend's plight.

"Tell him _why_ I threatened you," I scolded Turk, and Barbossa looked at him expectantly.

Turk looked around a little sheepishly. "Might have something to do with the fact that I offered to...oh shit, never mind," he said, laughing again.

Barbossa rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion at Turk and shook his head.

"Don't you give me that look!" Turk scolded him back, "Yeh know as well as I do that yeh'd be the first to admit..." He cut off suddenly, having evidently been given another less pleasant look by Barbossa that I missed.

"Admit what?" I asked as I concentrated on what I was still doing.

"Nothin'," Turk replied, "don't mind us. We're jus' bein' stupid," he said, evidently speaking more for the captain's benefit than mine.

"There," I said, after I took the last suture out. "You're still going to have to look out for this for a while, but the itching won't be quite so bad now."

"Thank you, darlin'," Turk said. "Now, what do yeh think about lettin' old Turk have a few hours in town, Doc?"

I sighed, feeling that I was fighting a losing battle about keeping him rested.

"Ye'll never hear the end of it if he doesn't get to go," Barbossa informed me, now taking Turk's side instead of mine.

I knew without the captain to back me up there was little chance I had of keeping the big pirate confined to the ship any longer.

"Fine," I said, "but if you do anything to tear that up..." I threatened, indicating the newly healed wound I'd just removed the sutures from.

"Then I know yeh'll do a right fine job puttin' me back together again," Turk said happily. "Thank yeh, luv." He leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of my head and strode off, whistling happily to himself.

"Pathetic," I scoffed quietly toward where Turk had disappeared below deck.

"Turk?" Barbossa asked, walking toward his cabin with a look that said I should follow.

"Pirates," I answered, only half joking. "Men."

"Ah," Barbossa said, taking my meaning. "Well, we have but simple needs," he said, holding the door open for me. "They not be so complicated as those of a woman."

I walked past him into the cabin, and he shut the door behind us.

"Are you saying that women are difficult?" I asked, still only half joking.

"I'm sayin' that ye be more..._complex_," Barbossa replied diplomatically.

I couldn't help but smile at his choice of words. "And is that a good thing or a bad thing, Captain?" I asked.

"That would depend on the man yer askin'," he answered smoothly.

"And if I were asking you?" I laughed.

He thought it over for a moment before answering. "Well, Miss Gray," he finally said, "that would depend on the woman."

He indicated that we should sit at the table at that point, and I looked to where not only the map and writing supplies sat, but breakfast as well. "I thought I'd see to keepin' yer strength up if I'm puttin' you to work again," he explained, going to sit in his customary chair.

I went to sit in the one that had become mine since first having dined with him, and helped myself to the fruit and bread and cheese he had set out as he poured us each a mug of black coffee. I wasn't really prepared for how strong it would be without anything in it, and sipped it gingerly.

"'Tis a bit overwhelmin' at first," he commented, giving me a sly look, "but ye get used to it. Bit of an acquired taste, but once you have it ye'll have yours no other way than strong and dark."

I choked a little at that moment, and of course I didn't voice the thought I had that he might not only be referring to the coffee.

"So, tell me, Captain," I said quickly, "how is it that you've come to know French, yourself?"

"Pirates," he said with his mouth full, and held up a finger for me to wait while he swallowed. "I don't speak much at all –just enough to be able to claim I do."

"Capitaine Chevalle?" I guessed, reaching for a mango. Realizing there was no knife on the table, Barbossa handed me his dagger.

He shook his head. "No, and he reminds me how awful my accent is every time I see him."

I laughed at his comment as I worked on the mango.

"Two pirates I know...brothers...twins actually... taught me a long time ago," he said as he ate.

I began to be suspicious that he was pulling my leg. "Twin pirates?"

"Yes, French twins," he confirmed. "Guy and Louis...they still sail under a skull with a red rose in its teeth."

I choked on my coffee again, and began laughing.

"What?" he asked innocently. "They do, only their flag isn't the only thing that be _jolly_ on their ship, if ye take my meanin'."

I couldn't help but continue to laugh. "They like men?" I asked, now knowing he must be fabricating this story.

He gave me a meaningful look. "They like both, and they share absolutely everythin'."

I was nearly beside myself with laughter at that point, and struggled to clarify the story. "So, what you're saying is that you learned French from two bisexual pirates, named Guy and Louis, who are fond of a ménage-a –trois, and sail under a Jolly red rose?"

He nodded, laughing himself.

"No wonder Chevalle thinks your accent is terrible," I said, holding a hand over my mouth, trying to suppress my laughter.

"It's all true, I assure you," Barbossa said, watching me carefully as I finally composed myself.

"If you say so," I said, wiping the mango juice off the dagger with my napkin and handing it back to him.

"That I do," he said, "and I also say that ye be quite fetchin' when you laugh, Madeline Gray."

Somehow at that moment, I'd managed to discover that I'd never seen a more interesting napkin than the one I held in my hands, which I was using to wipe mango juice off my fingers.

"More coffee?" he asked.

"No, thank you," I said, with barely a glance in his direction.

"Shall we get to work, then?" he asked.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," I said, convinced that it was until he removed the plates, slid the map in front of me and his own chair over quite close to mine.

I took a deep breath and returned to work on the map. The sooner I was able to get it translated, then the sooner I would be free to go. I began deciphering the fourth stanza, and was soon lost in concentration. Barbossa sat to my right, quill once again tapping his beard as he waited for me to speak.

"It's the same pattern all the way through," I said. "This next line says 'Know my name –brother of Jupiter, brother of Pluto."

"Neptune," he replied. "What be the meanin' of that?" He asked the question as much of himself as me.

I thought about it. In Roman mythology, Jupiter ruled the heavens, Neptune the sea, and Pluto the underworld. The Greeks would have called them Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. I suddenly paused from my thoughts and ran my finger back over the previous stanza.

"That's it!" I cried, with a little a laugh.

"What?" he asked, trying to follow along.

"The Greeks...this word...onama...is Greek. The lines all begin 'know my name', but several of them have the Latin word for name replaced with the Greek one.

"There be a good reason fer it, if Morgan wrote it that way," Barbossa said, confidently.

"You knew Morgan?" I asked, not having made the connection in our conversation the day before.

"Aye, sailed with him fer years," Barbossa replied.

I must admit I sounded a tiny bit impressed, whether I meant to or not. "Really?"

"'Twas he who gave me the map," Barbossa said, looking a bit smug at that point.

I frowned. "But you said the map had vexed you for five or six years...Morgan's been dead for nearly ten. Everyone knows that."

The pirate gave me a knowing look. "Everyone thinks him to have died ten years ago," he said. "Those of us as know him best, know otherwise."

"You say that like you think he's still alive," I said, still not quite sure if what he was saying was true.

"Aye, last I knew," Barbossa agreed. "Retired he is, in Wales." He proceeded to give me a short account of what had transpired to allow the infamous Henry Morgan to essentially disappear altogether into much needed retirement.

"So, this is the ship he gave you?" I asked, realizing that not only was I in Captain Barbossa's cabin, but Captain Morgan's as well.

"Aye, _Oxford_, she be named before," he replied proudly, "and now she be the _Rogue Wave_."

"Why not keep the name Morgan gave her? I imagine that people would respect the fact that Morgan had given you his very own flagship."

He shook his head. "The people I would have wanted to know most, do, and as fer anyone else...I just prefer to make me own way."

Skewed as it seemed from my outsider's perspective, I guess I could understand that Barbossa wanted to make his own reputation for himself, and not continually rely on his relationship with Morgan to impress. From what I knew of the man, he had certainly succeeded to a fair degree.

"Well, let's see if we can outdo Morgan on this," I said, returning to the next stanza. Barbossa nodded determinedly and picked up the quill again.

"Alright, this one is Greek," I said, "'Know my name – Giver of desire, giver of lust.'" I shot a preemptive look at the pirate to tell him to keep any remarks to himself, and he went back to writing what I had translated without comment.

I worked for a while longer on the second to last stanza. Finally, I had it.

"This one is also onama," I said, watching Barbossa note which ones were Greek and which ones were Latin as I spoke. "'Know my name –Father of the Sun, Father of the Moon."

I pressed my palms to my eyes, weary of reading the map and trying to decipher the writing and translate the Latin.

"Perhaps that's enough fer now?" Barbossa suggested, obviously sensing my weariness.

I nodded in agreement as Barbossa got up and put away the quill and ink, and then rolled up the map to put it on the bookcase where he kept it. "It'll be about noontide, now," he said, "and I'll see about who's returnin' and who's to stay so that ye might go ashore as we discussed."

"Thank you," I said, rising and walking to the door with him.

"'Tis I should be thankin' you," he said, escorting me out. "Ye managed to decipher as much in two days as I have in two years," he said, sounding quite pleased.

The next wave of returning pirates came aboard at that moment, catching the attention of each of us. I noted that most of them looked worse for wear after shore leave than before.

With this group were Waters and Bellamy, and I laughed when they came aboard, looking quite haggard from a night on the town. "Michael, you look awful," I called to Bellamy with a laugh, as he neared where I was standing with the captain.

Bellamy smiled sheepishly at me. "Overindulged a bit I think, May. What can you do to fix me up?"

"Not much I'm afraid," I said, still amused at the pitiful condition he'd dragged himself back in.

"Master Bellamy," Barbossa said pleasantly, entering the conversation, "too much of a good thing last night?"

"No such thing, sir," Bellamy replied jovially.

"And did ye have a fine evenin' with the ladies of Tortuga?" Barbossa asked slyly.

Bellamy's expression grew more serious. "Aye, Cap'n," he replied reluctantly, seeming as if he wasn't pleased with Barbossa pointing out just exactly where he'd been all evening.

Barbossa returned his attention to me for a moment. "Thankee for yer assistance all morning, May," he said. "I'll make the arrangements we agreed on." He left me standing with Bellamy and went to speak with Harlow.

Bellamy was staring after Barbossa, looking hungover and none too pleased.

"Michael, you look exhausted," I said, noting that he actually did.

"Aye. I wouldn't mind a quick swim and a nap in the sun on that beach we found," he said.

"That sounds lovely, right about now," I said, feeling a bit tired myself from working on the map all morning.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the captain speaking with the first mate. "What is it Barbossa is arranging? Is he letting you off the ship again?"

"Yes, tonight, he said," I replied.

"Tonight?" he asked, sounding concerned. "Does he really think that's a good idea? It's a bit rough in town right now with all of Chevalle's crew around."

I was starting to worry, but I really wanted to get off the ship.

"Maybe you should wait until tomorrow, May," Bellamy said. "I'd be happy to go with you if the captain would agree."

"Michael, you've given up enough of your free time on my behalf," I said. I was feeling unsure about leaving, and guilty about possibly imposing on him again.

"May," he said softly, coming to stand a little closer. "I really wouldn't mind spending more time with you. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't even mind seeing if we could ditch Waters this time around."

I suddenly recognized what he was getting at, and found myself at a loss for words when I realized where he was headed. "Michael," I said hesitantly, "I'm not sure that..."

Bellamy continued on with what he'd been saying. "I was thinking... a bit more wine...no Waters around...just you, me and that beach. Maybe I could talk you into joining me in a swim this time around?"

Poor Bellamy had been too focused on the picture he was painting to notice that the captain had walked up behind him again, and was standing there with his arms folded across his chest.

"She can't swim, and the answer is _no_," Barbossa said harshly, "and ye'd do best to remember that yer back on duty, Master Bellamy."

Bellamy straightened up smartly, looking fairly uncomfortable at that point. I'm afraid I might have as well. "Aye, Cap'n," he said, and jumped quickly to return to duty, leaving me standing with an irritated Barbossa.

"The matter is settled," Barbossa said sharply, even though I don't really think it was me that he was irritated at.

"There be things I need to go over with Mr. Harlow about re-stockin' our supplies and readyin' the ship – I'd prefer to have it done and over with," he explained, some of the aggravation fading from his voice. "Can ye wait a few hours?"

"Of course," I replied, not really understanding exactly what he was getting at. "If I have to I can wait until tomorrow, Captain."

"Tomorrow?" he replied, puzzled as to why I would want to delay.

"Yes, I was concerned that it might be more risky, tonight," I said, sounding convinced that it would be.

"Have ye no sense of adventure, Miss Gray?" Barbossa asked me sardonically.

I took a sharper tone than I meant to with him and frowned at his remark. "I thought you said Tortuga wouldn't be a safe place at night?"

"It's not," Barbossa replied, "if you were to go alone. Ye'll come to no harm in that place as long as you remain with me."

"What?" I asked, a sinking feeling setting in as I began to understand what I had gotten myself into.

"Master Turk and myself will be accompanyin' you this evenin'," he said, appearing amused at the look that I knew I was having trouble keeping off may face. "Unless ye'd rather not be a-goin'," he added, laying on the West Country accent even more thickly.

I didn't really care for my choices, but I kept my mouth shut about the matter and said nothing.

"Shall we say about four hours, then?" he asked.

"Fine," was all I could manage to say before I walked away.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC or Hector Barbossa, and although he likes me better for writing a romance for him, he unfortunately belongs to Disney.

On to Tortuga!

--

**Chapter Sixteen ~*~**

**--**

_I took a sharper tone than I meant to with him and frowned at his remark. "I thought you said Tortuga wouldn't be a safe place at night?"_

_"It's not," Barbossa replied, "if you were to go alone. Ye'll come to no harm in that place as long as you remain with me."_

_"What?" I asked, a sinking feeling setting in as I began to understand what I had gotten myself into._

_"Master Turk and myself will be accompanyin' you this evenin'," he said, appearing amused at the look that I knew I was having trouble keeping off may face. "Unless ye'd rather not be a-goin'," he added, laying on the West Country accent even more thickly._

_I didn't really care for my choices, but I kept my mouth shut about the matter and said nothing._

_"Shall we say about four hours, then?" he asked._

_"Fine," was all I could manage to say before I walked away._

_--_

A few hours later, I was in my closet still fretting about the matter. While I truly wanted a break from being on the ever–rocking ship and to get my feet back on solid ground, what I wanted most was a respite from the pirates, and especially Barbossa. At least that was the reasoning that I was desperately clinging to, I see when I look back upon events now.

The way things stood I was going to be stuck with him for the evening if I wanted off the _Rogue Wave_. Frustrated, I sat down on my cot and plunked my chin on my hands, resting my elbows on my knees with a sigh. I had less than an hour before I was supposed to be back on deck, and I knew the moment would come all too soon.

A lock of hair fell in my face, and as I ran a hand over it to smooth it back in place, I realized that the braid I wore was well on its way to coming unraveled. In fact, once I thought about it, so was the rest of me.

The green dress, which I had made do with for a week, was becoming quite rumpled, and had a smear of ink on the sleeve from where I'd brushed up against the inkwell as I'd worked on Barbossa's map.

Although I knew Cornelia would never have a say in the matter again, I'd still felt guilty about using her things, and other than the incident with the perfume, had stuck to using only the most utilitarian items in her trunks –the small mirror, brush and comb.

I decided at that point to see about tidying up. I'm not really sure why it mattered, but I determined I was not going to go ashore looking like some common Tortuga strumpet, and I pulled up the tops of the two trunks to see what I could come up with.

I had to dig through the clothes that were crowded into the two chests for a while before I could find another dress that wasn't lower cut than the one I had already had to make do with, but at last I found a simple dress of midnight blue with relatively modest cut that was considerably less revealing and laced up the back.

Pleased with my find, I laid the dress out on the cot and discarded the green one in a corner. I sat the small mirror I had inherited on one of the trunks, and taking a handful of tiny silver combs from a compartment in the second trunk, proceeded to secure my hair at the back of my head so that it would be out of my way, in a neat but elegant twist.

By the time I finished, I was running out of time, and the last thing I wanted was not be dressed if one of the pirates showed up at my door. I took up the blue dress and stepped into it, pulling it up and sliding my arms through the sleeves. It fit like a glove, and as I inspected my appearance in the small mirror, I was happy to see that it was in fact, considerably less revealing than the green one.

All I had to do was lace up the back, which is not as easy as it sounds if you are doing it by yourself. I reached around for the fine satin ribbon that secured the dress, and discovered at that moment, as I struggled to bring the edges anywhere closer together, that the dress did not fit nearly as well as I had thought.

Puzzle, I snatched up the mirror to try and inspect the back of the dress. That's when I realized that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way the dress fit, indeed, it was actually quite flattering, but the reason I was having so much trouble with the back of the dress, was that there was _no back_.

While the dress was more conservative in the front, it made up for things by being completely open across the back, and plunged daringly from shoulders to hips, covered by nothing more than the criss-cross of tiny satin ribbon that started at the bottom and tied off at the top.

Still panicking at what I was seeing in the mirror, the first word that came to mind as a knock came at my door was the Portuguese curse that the captain was so fond of.

I fumbled with the mirror, dropped it, picked it back up, flipped open one of the trunks again, and closed it, all in the space of about eight seconds.

I heard Turk's voice on the other side of the door. "May, you comin'?" he called, waiting for my answer.

"Just a moment!" I called back, deciding that I would change as quick as I could into the wine colored dress I had seen near the top of the second trunk.

"Well, hurry up," he called, sounding like he meant it. "Barbossa's in a right state, and keepin' him waiting won't improve his mood none."

The Portuguese curse echoed in my head again as I halted in unlacing the ribbon in back of the blue dress, and quickly started lacing it back up. I exhaled as much as I could, and tied it off quite securely, ensuring that it wouldn't loosen up later on.

I braced myself and pulled the door open.

"Good, yer ready," Turk said, as I walked out of my cabin. "Glad to see yer one of them ladies that doesn't take forever...bugger!" He dropped off in mid-sentence.

"What?" I asked, turning back around to see what his problem was.

He was looking at me wearing a wry grin. "That's some dress, May," he said, obviously having noticed the back, or lack thereof as I walked by. "You look right sharp in it if you don't mind me sayin' so."

"Is it alright?" I asked, and then realized I felt like an idiot for asking a pirate for his opinion about my wardrobe.

"Aye," Turk replied, looking me over again. "I'd say it's more'n alright. Well, come on, then...I don't want the captain in a worse mood fer waitin'."

"What put him in such a foul mood?" I asked as I walked with him.

"One of the lads had a bit much to drink and insulted the French pirates," Turk explained. "Started quite a row between the two ships, and now Barbossa'll have to smooth things back over with Chevalle."

"That's not good," I said, thinking that this was probably the last night that I actually wanted to be going into Tortuga now.

"Nay, it's not," Turk went on, "and yer_ friend_ Bellamy didn't help matters much either."

"Bellamy?" I asked, not caring for the way Turk said 'friend', and wondering what he had to do with anything.

Turk nodded and spoke more quietly as we went up the companionway stairs. "Aye, decided to speak his mind to the captain after you went below about it being a risky thing to take you into Tortuga. I didn't hear all that were said, but I know that Bellamy better watch 'is step after I saw the look Barbossa had when they were done havin' words."

"I imagine he doesn't take kindly to having his decisions questioned," I said.

"That'd be an understatement if ever there was one," Turk said with a grin as we came to stand outside the captain's quarters, and he reached to knock. "We'll just hope he's calmed down a..."

His sentence was cut off by the muffled but distinct sound of glass shattering somewhere beyond the cabin door.

Flashing me a strained smile, Turk shoved me forward. "You go first," he said, opening the door.

Barbossa was pacing agitatedly in the cabin, one fist on his hip, and the other hand rubbing the back of his neck in irritation. Dressed in his waistcoat, I could see that his hat and frockcoat had been flung on the table without thought, and when he turned to where we had entered there was no question from the look in his eyes that he was furious with the situation.

I remember seeing the fierce look he wore when he turned, and I said a little thank you that I was not the person on the receiving end of his ire. He made an obvious effort to marshal his anger back under control before he spoke.

"May," he said, acknowledging me briefly before turning to Turk. He opened his mouth to say something and then his gaze came slowly back around to where I stood, as his anger began to fade and he noticed that I had changed.

Turk spoke up, getting Barbossa's attention again. "If yer done with yer tantrum, Hector, there's some serious drinkin' to be done," he said quietly.

I expected Barbossa to fly off the handle at the comment, but he merely let go an exasperated sigh. "Aye, yer right," he said, and he shrugged himself into his coat.

I would be willing to bet that perhaps Morgan himself, were he in fact, still alive, might be the only other person I could think of that might have gotten away with the comment that Turk had made to Barbossa, and still lived to tell the tale.

Barbossa managed to leave his anger behind as he swept his hat off the table and perched it on his head. "Shall we?" he asked, and we filed back out of the cabin, me behind Turk with Barbossa bringing up the rear. "Damn," I heard Barbossa swear under his breath behind me, and the same sentiment went through my mind as I realized he had noticed the back of my dress.

--

I must say again that climbing up and down the ladder on the side of a ship in a dress is not one of my favorite activities, although I was getting better at it. I was amazed at how agilely Turk managed to scramble down into the waiting longboat with one arm, and I very carefully followed, taking the hand he offered me to help me step into the rocking boat at the bottom.

There were seven more of us going ashore that night -Turk and I sat at the back, and four other pirates manned the oars as Barbossa situated himself at the front, balancing effortlessly with one boot propped up on the boat's prow.

It only took a few minutes to row the short distance to shore, and when the boat at last ran aground, Turk helped me to my feet and passed my hand off to the next pirate, who handed me off to the next; each of them helping me to the front of the boat as they did their best to steady it for me.

Barbossa hopped nimbly off the boat onto shore, and when I made it to the front, offered me his hand. "M'lady," he said, helping me to step down to stand beside him, making sure I had my feet under me before he let go.

We waited a moment for Turk to come ashore, and Barbossa leaned back a little as he stood next to me and scrutinized the back of my dress for a minute.

"What?" I said a bit defensively, shooting him a bit of a dirty look.

"I take back what I said about ye not having a sense of adventure," he said, his gaze leaving the delicate ribbon crossing my bare back and returning to my eyes. His tone was slightly sarcastic, but not mocking, and there was something else in his eyes besides amusement that I couldn't, at that moment, fathom.

I settled for silence in return, as I wouldn't have known what to say in reply to that look anyway, and was thankful that Turk made it to where we were standing.

He looked immensely happy to be standing at the threshold of Tortuga, and as much as I thought he might be overdoing things a bit, I guess I couldn't blame Turk for wanting to celebrate his good fortune and the fact that he was alive after all he'd been through.

"So, we plannin' on headin' south, Cap'n?" he asked cheerfully.

"Aye. 'Twould be best, don't you agree?" Barbossa replied, turning and setting out for the buildings and the street nearby.

We walked for a minute or two before the sound of the lapping waves faded behind us, and I became aware of a fair amount of noise from the streets up ahead. Rowdy laughter could be heard, and before I could open my mouth to inquire from my escorts as to where they were taking me, a gunshot and a scream rang out from not far way to our left.

"Thing's are livenin' up a bit early tonight," Turk replied casually, his manner seemingly unconcerned.

I can tell you my manner was not. "Was that a gunshot?" I asked, looking to either of them for some sort of explanation.

"Aye, probably a few lads havin' a bit of fun," Barbossa said, leaning toward me from where he was walking on my right.

"Fun?" I asked incredulously. "Wasn't that a scream that I just...?"

"Are you hungry?" Barbossa asked, cutting me off and not acknowledging my question.

"I could polish off a bloody ox," Turk volunteered from where he walked just behind us.

"Ye'd _be _a great bloody ox," Barbossa snapped over his shoulder pleasantly.

"Yeah, well better a great bloody ox than a puffed up peacock," Turk shot back with a laugh.

"Peacock, ye say?" Barbossa replied with mock indignation.

"Aye," Turk said, gesturing at Barbossa's head. "You an' all them prissy feathers on that friggin' hat yeh love so much."

"Now, don't be insultin' me hat again, Master Turk," Barbossa returned with a laugh of his own. "We've covered this ground before, and needn't drag poor May into our debate."

"Why not?" Turk asked, deciding to drag me in anyway. "So, what do think, May? Yea or nay on Barbossa's bloody hat?"

I am sure the look on my face told them both that I was firmly disinclined to answer the question.

Turk laughed at me. "Come on, May, tell me from a _lady's _perspective - puffed up peacock, or dashing pirate captain?" he asked, evidently intent on harassing both Barbossa and me.

I have to admit that I found their good-natured bickering amusing and began to smile despite myself. I glanced up at Barbossa's hat. "Hmm...peacock or dashing pirate captain?" I asked, repeating Turks' query.

They both looked at me expectantly as we walked.

"Well," I replied, "I didn't realize the two had to be mutually exclusive."

Turk roared with laughter, and Barbossa shot me a dirty look, but I could tell he was trying not to smile as well.

"I'll remember that, _Doctor_," he said, as our unlikely trio stepped between two buildings and out into Tortuga proper.

I decided at that point that I really would rather be back on the ship, and as I have already explained, it would take quite something for me to feel that way.

I guess that somehow, despite the fact that I had been thoroughly warned, I still wasn't prepared for the rowdy decadence that was Tortuga. Small bands of pirates and merchant seamen were everywhere, roaming drunkenly or spilling out into the streets from the crowded saloons and taverns.

We passed one establishment that although unmarked, was clearly identifiable as a brothel due to the fact that heavily made up women were draped across the men that loitered near the doorway. I have to say that that as a physician, I have seen a lot of things in my day, and I don't surprise easily, but in this instance, what I caught a glimpse of one of those women doing to a man standing in the alley next to the whore house, thoroughly shocked and appalled me.

Another gunshot, and then a second echoed through the street, and I jumped both at the shots and the rowdy blood-curdling yell that followed them, as we walked past the next building that was clearly a very busy tavern.

Alarmed and preoccupied as I was with the shots and the yelling, I unconsciously began inching closer to where Barbossa walked to my right, apparently unconcerned with what was going on around us. It was only when I bumped squarely into him that I'd realized I'd been drifting toward what I was rapidly considering the lesser of two evils.

He must have understood that I was finding the rowdy group of drunken pirates to my left frightening after the gun fired again and a fight erupted in the street only a few feet away from me. Quickly and gracefully, he took my arm and led me around as he stepped behind me, passing me to his right and putting himself between the fight and me just as one of the combatants hit the ground heavily at his feet.

I was a bit breathless at that point, in part from the fact that a dead or unconscious pirate had just landed in the spot where I had stood a few seconds before, but also from the fact that as Barbossa had ushered me across to his other side, he'd placed his hand briefly on the back of my waist, and despite the warm Tortuga evening, I was left with a chill from where his fingers had brushed across my bare skin.

I think Barbossa would have merely stepped over the unmoving form on the ground and continued on, if it weren't for the fact that the other pirate involved in the fight, carried forward by drunken momentum, staggered into him. The captain managed to throw up his left hand and repel the drunk away a second before they collided, and the pirate lost his balance and tumbled backward to land next to the first man on the ground.

While Barbossa seemed ready to ignore the situation, and turned to speak to me, about to ask, I believe, if I was alright, the pirate on the ground, unfortunately for him, took Barbossa's shove as a challenge and heaved himself to his feet, cursing.

"Yeh scurvy bastard!" the drunk cried, drawing a pistol from his belt. "I learn yeh a lesson about who yeh fuck with around here!"

"You don't want to be doin' that," Barbossa said in reply, his voice soft but deadly as he stood his ground.

"The 'ell I don't!" the drunkard roared, and pointed the gun directly in Barbossa's face from only a few feet away.

I gasped involuntarily as the drunken pirate cocked the gun, and Turk's hand came down on my shoulder, pulling me back another step and quickly out of the way.

I don't think I have ever seen anyone react as fast as Barbossa did in that split second. In what was almost a single fluid movement, his sword was out of its scabbard and arcing through the air with a lightening flash of polished steel, and the gun sailed harmlessly through the air to land in the street a few feet away.

Unfortunately for the drunk it still had his hand attached.

The man collapsed back into the street, screaming and clutching at where blood poured heavily from his wrist, trying to staunch the flow with his other hand. Several of the other pirates who had gathered to watch the confrontation dragged him back inside, doing their best to control the bleeding.

A trail of blood followed the man as he disappeared into the crowd at the same time the remaining witnesses began to whisper in hushed voices, and the name of the man that they now knew stood in the street spread back through the gathering as well.

"Barbossa," they said to one another. The whisper of "It's Barbossa," was enough to bring the remaining pirates in the street to a silent standstill as they recognized that one of the nine Pirate Lords stood before them.

Barbossa stood there, sword still in hand, and surveyed the crowd with a fierce sweeping gaze from under the brim of his hat before he spoke. "Anyone else yet question who ye do, and who ye do not fuck with around here?"

There wasn't anyone stupid or drunk enough to say no at that point.

--

**A/N**: Just in case any of you forgot we were dealing with a pirate. ;)


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen ~*~**

**--**

_"Barbossa," they said to one another. The whisper of "It's Barbossa," was enough to bring the remaining pirates in the street to a silent standstill as they recognized that one of the nine Pirate Lords stood before them._

_Barbossa stood there, sword still in hand, and surveyed the crowd with a fierce sweeping gaze from under the brim of his hat before he spoke. "Anyone else yet question who ye do, and who ye do not fuck with around here?"_

_There wasn't anyone stupid or drunk enough to say no at that point._

**--**

Barbossa stood there in the street a moment longer, staring down perhaps a score of pirates that had finally realized who their drunken comrade was foolish enough to threaten, and it was obvious that not a single one of them considered saying anything as he finally relaxed his stance and sheathed his sword.

He glanced at where I stood with Turk, experiencing equal measures of horror and awe at what he'd just done, and nodded toward a point down the street, indicating that we should go.

Turk let go of where he'd grabbed my shoulder protectively during the confrontation, and I met Barbossa's eyes, which were still blazing. Once again, I decided that I was quite glad not to be the unfortunate soul that had crossed the man.

If I had been astonished by what the captain had just pulled off in the street, the next thing he did surprised me almost as much. Taking his leave of the subdued crowd, he stepped a pace or two away from them, and after one last glance to make sure no other threat remained, looked back at me and offered me his arm.

While the look he gave me at that point held no trace of anger or menace, I still felt it wisest after what I had just witnessed to comply with what appeared to be a request and not an order, and picking up my skirts in one hand, stepped forward and slipped my other hand under his elbow.

I allowed him to lead me away from the dispersing crowd, and Turk followed along on my other side, until we turned the corner onto a somewhat tamer street.

Our destination seemed to be somewhere further down the road, and as I continued walking, my hand still on Barbossa's arm, Turk took the opportunity to start in on his captain again.

"Yeh great bloody show off," Turk said under his breath, but obviously loud enough that Barbossa would hear him.

"Show off?" Barbossa asked. "What would ye have me do, let the bastard shoot me?"

"Not that," Turk said, waving him off. "That idiot got better'n he deserved. I'm talkin' about that grand exit yeh made."

"Grand exit?" Barbossa said, over the top of my head, his innocent tone a little too contrived for Turk to take him seriously.

"Aye, yeh bloody peacock," Turk laughed. "Struttin' away with a fine little hen on yer arm like that."

"Are ye suggestin' that was all fer show?" Barbossa asked slyly, still conversing over my head with Turk.

"Aye, that I am and yeh damn well know it's true," Turk said. "Led her along like some fancy show pony, if yeh ask me."

"Show pony?" Barbossa and I both asked Turk at the same time, his tone amused, and mine not so.

"Master Turk," Barbossa began," ye can't begin to fault..."

It was my turn to pipe up at that point. "Would it be terribly inconvenient for either of you to stop talking about me as if I weren't standing right here?" I asked, obviously irritated.

Barbossa's gaze traveled from Turk's face to mine. "Apologies, May," he said graciously. "I was about to ask Master Turk, here, if he could find fault with me fer wantin' to be seen with such a fine, lovely lass on me arm tonight."

I said nothing as I found myself once more at a loss for words and for how to feel about what he'd just said. Thankfully, Turk came to my rescue, and Barbossa's intense gaze left my eyes as he looked back at Turk.

"Of course not," Turk said, teasing me to lighten up the awkward moment, or so I thought. "I'd be happy to have yeh on me own arm, May," he said, with a grin, "if it weren't for the fact that fer some reason yeh seem content on this poppinjay's wing."

I wanted crawl under a rock at that particular moment when it became apparent to me, as it was to Turk, that I was still, in fact, hanging onto the captain's arm.

It was actually Barbossa that rescued us all from the awkward moment when he leaned closer to whisper to me, though loud enough that Turk could obviously hear him. "Tell Master Turk that it's because ye like me hat," he said, giving me a wink that disarmed me completely and caused me to laugh.

"Bloody hell," Turk swore, "there'll be no livin' with him after this if yeh say that."

--

We came to stand outside of an establishment near the south end of the street we had walked down, which appeared considerably less run down than some of the ramshackle buildings we had passed while crossing through part of the rougher west side of town.

Here the noise level had dropped dramatically, and the number of people as well, and I felt myself relaxing to some small degree now that no one was shooting a gun next to me or falling over dead at my feet.

Barbossa left me standing with Turk outside with instructions for him to keep an eye on me, and went inside, leaving us to wait for his return.

"What is this place?" I asked, while Turk lean back casually against the wall, and scratched absently at where I had recently removed his sutures. I slapped his hand away gently. "Leave it," I admonished him.

He gave me a rueful look and then answered my question. "This here, May, if yeh have enough gold in yer pockets, or if yeh have the right connections, can be whatever it is a pirate needs."

I must have looked like I still didn't understand, and Turk went on to explain further. "This place is known as the _Mermaid_, and it's run by a right cunning wench named Lilith Davenport, better known as Tortuga Lily. If she likes you, and enough of yer gold crosses her palm, Lily can arrange to get you whatever it is yeh want, and plenty of it."

"Really?" I asked, "like what?"

"Expensive food, fine wine, chocolate, tobacco, opium, women...you name it," Turk explained.

"Just what is it that the captain has gone in to arrange getting us?" I asked him, not entirely sure I wanted to know the answer.

Turk gave me a wry grin. "Knowin' Barbossa, probably some of all of the above," he said, causing me a great deal of concern.

He must have seen the look on my face. "May, relax, darlin'. This is supposed to be fun," he said, "and yeh look like yer scared half to death."

"That might be more accurate than you think," I said quietly, hearing the strain in my own voice. "What is it that makes you think this might be fun for me?"

Turk's enthusiasm wasn't the least bit dampened by my pessimistic comment. "You can't say yeh haven't laughed tonight already," he said.

"I suppose," I said with a reluctant sigh.

"Yeh've nothin' to be concerned with, May. This is the safest place in Tortuga, and as yeh've already seen, there's not likely anybody left in town that doesn't know what happens when yeh make the mistake of threatenin' the captain of the _Rogue Wave_.

I nodded. "But what you don't understand, Turk, is that this is not what I'm used to," I said, praying I had the strength to not get emotional outside the _Mermaid_.

"Yeh think I don't know that probably two weeks ago you were doin' surgery and deliverin' babies and going to dinner parties in Port Royal?" Turk asked. "Of course I know this isn't what yer used to. Who the fuck is used to being kidnapped by pirates?"

He almost succeeded in making me laugh.

"The thing of it is, May, that two weeks ago I had two arms," he said, but without even a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Now, I might prefer to have my other arm back, but that's just not possible at this point, so I'm gettin' by as best I can. We only get but one go 'round in this life, darlin' and I intend to make the best of mine each day while I still can."

He put his hand on my shoulder affectionately. "Yeh ought to do the same, May."

He did finally succeed in getting me to smile.

"'Sides, how many other doctors yeh know get wined and dined in style by a Pirate Lord in Tortuga?" he asked, encouraged by the fact that I seemed to be cheering up. "Yeh mark my words, if anyone can put together an evenin' that'll impress yeh, it'll be Barbossa."

"He does like to show off, doesn't he?" I said, feeling a little better.

"Aye, that he does, especially if there be a lady to show off in front of," Turk replied, with a broad grin. "Been that way fer better or worse since he was nineteen."

"You've known him that long?" I asked, realizing that even I had underestimated the length of their friendship.

"That long," Turk confirmed, "swaggerin' fancy bantam that he thinks he is."

I finally did laugh at Turk's comparison of Barbossa to one of the colorful but ornery little roosters that I used to have at home in Wiltshire.

"'Course he's not nearly as pretty as one of them tough little birds," Turk went on good-naturedly, and I laughed a little again.

"There, now, that's better," Turk said after seeing me laugh. "Try not to fret too much tonight."

"Alright," I agreed, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a relieved way.

At that moment, Barbossa returned and beckoned to us to follow him inside and through what looked like a high-end tavern of sorts. Busy, but not crowded, it was remarkably more civilized than what I had seen so far of Tortuga, despite the fact that it was obviously full of mostly pirates.

The captain had evidently arranged for a table in a back corner that he preferred, and as we stepped into the room, he once again offered me his arm, which I took, having decided to play nice for the moment.

What I didn't understand until later was that Barbossa preferred such a spot because it allowed him to survey the entire room, who came and went, and also happened to be close to two quick ways out of the room. It was probably just as well that I was oblivious to that fact at the time, as that information would have probably given me cause for even more concern.

A woman with graying hair that was probably once nearly black, wearing an elegant, and probably very expensive dark red dress met us at the table. Although she was at least a decade or more my senior, she was quite attractive, and the dress she wore showed her still excellent figure off to its best advantage. I knew at once that this must be Tortuga Lily.

Barbossa disengaged himself from my arm for the moment as she greeted him.

"Ah, Hector," she said, giving him a radiant smile, "I thought that it wouldn't be long before you came to see me again." She embraced him warmly and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I trust things are well with you, especially if you have decided to pay me a visit?" she asked slyly, standing back at arm's length from him.

"Aye, Lil," Barbossa returned charmingly. "Very well indeed," he said, as the woman's curious gazed traveled to where I stood. Her eyes quickly swept past me and to where Turk stood next to me.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?" she asked Turk, moving to greet the big pirate with another warm embrace.

Turk explained briefly about the encounter with an exploding section of the _Rogue's _hull.

"I see," Lilith said "Well, I am very pleased that you are still alive, my friend. I trust that you've suffered no other...permanent damage?" She gave him a knowing smile. Turk just laughed as the woman's gaze came back around to me.

She looked me over for a brief minute and then turned back to Barbossa with a smirk. "What is this? Have you tired of my lovely ladies and decided to bring your own entertainment now, Hector?" she asked, giving me a look that I wasn't entirely sure I liked.

Barbossa scolded her with a laugh. "Now, none of that, Lil. I expect ye to play nice tonight," he admonished her good-naturedly. "I'll not have you treating me ship's doctor with any disrespect."

"Well, now," Lilith said, sauntering past Barbossa over to where I stood, tongue in cheek and dark intelligent eyes meeting mine steadily. "The _Rogue Wave_ has a ship's doctor? How very impressive, Hector." She stopped a couple of feet in front of me, and gave me another blatantly appraising look. "Leave it to you to not only find yourself a doctor willing to join up with pirates," she laughed, "but to find a pretty one at that."

Tortuga Lily then addressed me, speaking in a hushed tone that could only be heard by those of us standing in our small group. "So, tell me, _Doctor_," she said, stepping in a little too close for comfort. "Have you found the need to operate on my dear captain, yet?" she purred. Her suggestive intonation was not lost on me.

I was starting to get irritated, and I was feeling a little intimidated by the woman. I met her gaze as steadily as I could for a moment, and then gave her the most charming smile I could muster.

"Captain Barbossa is most fortunate that he has not had the need to seek my services," I replied, leaving it for her to interpret however she liked. I offered her my hand. "I'm Madeline Gray," I said. "You must be Lilith Davenport."

Tortuga Lily smiled graciously at me as she shook my hand. "That I am, love. Welcome to the _Mermaid_."

"Thank you," I said, letting go of her hand as she spoke again.

"So, tell me," she asked nonchalantly, "how did you decide to join up with my favorite pirates?" She indicated we should make ourselves comfortable and sit down

"Oh, that's easy," I said honestly. "I was kidnapped."

Lilith shot Barbossa an amused look. "You kidnapped her?"

Barbossa shrugged casually and actually pulled out a chair for me, and I was seated on his left as she sat down on his right.

"So, is she still a prisoner or is she crew?" Lilith asked Barbossa, pulling out her own chair, and not looking pleased to have to do so.

"Madeline and I have come to an understandin'," Barbossa replied smoothly, "and that's all ye need to know, Lil."

"Of course," Lilith said with a smile, letting the matter drop. I got the impression that she wasn't finished digging for more information yet

"So, Hector," she said, taking on a more business-like air. "What is it I can do for you tonight? Or should I ask, was this a good trip, or a _very _good trip for the _Rogue_?"

"'Twas a right fine trip fer us, Lil," Barbossa admitted, "and we're lookin' to have a right fine evenin' to celebrate."

I understood that Lilith was trying to gauge just how much of Barbossa's money she was going to be able to part from him that night. "So, shall I make all the usual arrangements?" she asked.

"I'll leave everythin' in yer very capable hands, Lil," Barbossa said, leaning back and draping an elbow over the back of his chair.

Lilith stood. "Lovely," she said. "Shall I send a bottle of wine while I see to insuring that you have an interesting night?"

Barbossa nodded. "Make it two to start," he said, and she departed to make whatever arrangements she had in mind.

She returned only a moment or two later, followed by a servant that brought glasses and wine and set about opening the bottles. Lilith slid back into her seat next to Barbossa, and spoke to him in a somewhat urgent manner. "I think your evening is about to get even more interesting than you thought," she said.

"Why is that?" Barbossa asked, passing a glass of wine to Turk and then one to me.

Lilith looked a bit amused. "Chevalle is about to walk in."

While I am sure that there was no doubt that the look on my face at that moment belied the fact that I was surprised and now rather alarmed, Barbossa took her announcement in stride. "I see. Well, send another bottle – make sure it's French," he said, and Lilith was gone again to see to the matter.

"Do I want to know why we need a third bottle of wine?" I asked, knowing I was probably not going to like the answer.

Barbossa gave me a wry grin and sipped his wine. "Probably not."

I looked to Turk for an explanation.

"Well, May," he said, taking a great swallow of his own drink, "I believe yer about to make the acquaintance of yer second Pirate Lord this evenin'."

--


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** To the best of my knowledge, Capitaine Chevalle has no official canon first name, and readers of Naught but a Humble Pirate will already know that Turk's real name is Theodore Robert Kempthorne III. T-R-K.

Apologies ahead of time for anything I've mutilated in French! :)

--

**Chapter Eighteen ~*~**

--

"_Well, May," Turk said, taking a great swallow of his own drink, "I believe yer about to make the acquaintance of yer second Pirate Lord this evenin'."_

_--_

"What?" I asked, remembering that the captain had said that Chevalle could be dangerous, and knowing about the troubles earlier between the crews of the two ships.

No one had a chance to answer me, for at that moment Lilith returned, escorting a pirate who could only be Capitaine Chevalle. Dressed in elegant, but somewhat flamboyant French finery, he was bedecked with an impressive wig and blue plumed hat, and sauntered toward us arrogantly, carrying a gold-topped walking stick.

I stood up as he arrived at the table, taking my cue from Turk and Barbossa.

"Bonjour, Andre," Barbossa said warmly, leaving his seat to greet the new arrival. "How are you, my friend?" I noticed that the look in Barbossa's eyes did not reflect the cordial greeting.

The same could be said for Chevalle. "Hector," he acknowledged with a nod. "I would be better, if it were not for ze fact zat your crew 'as insulted my honor."

"Yes, so I've heard," Barbossa replied smoothly. "Ye'll join us this evenin' and allow me to make amends fer any offense ye might have suffered?"

The French pirate pouted thoughtfully for a moment, considering Barbossa's proposal. "Well," he said, a smile finally tugging at the corners of his mouth, "if you insist."

Barbossa handled the introductions. "Of course, ye remember Turk," he said.

"But, of course, Monsieur Kempthorne," Chevalle replied.

Barbossa then turned to me, and I did my best to pretend that I was at one of the Beckett's famous dinner parties, and not in the middle of Tortuga with three pirates.

"Madeline - Capitaine Andre Chevalle, Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea."

I smiled as graciously as I could and extended my hand to shake his as Barbossa continued.

"Andre, may I present Madeline Gray, ship's doctor to the _Rogue Wave_," Barbossa said, with a touch of smugness. Evidently he was getting a lot of mileage out of the fact that he currently had a ship's doctor.

Chevalle took my hand and gallantly pressed his lips to it. "Enchante," he said charmingly. "You are ze ship's surgeon – but a real doctor, no?" he asked, as he let go of my hand and we all were seated again.

"Bien sur," I said, smiling.

Chevalle's eyes lit up as he realized I spoke French, and he eagerly began asking me about how I ended up on Barbossa's ship.

"Comment est-ce qu'une belle fleur telle que vous-même a fini vers le haut avec ces escrocs?" he asked me charmingly, wanting to know, as he put it, how a lovely flower such as myself had ended up with such rogues.

I answered all his questions in fluent French, apparently to the annoyance of Lilith, who had remained behind at the table again. "J'ai été enlevé," I replied with a shrug and a smile.

Chevalle found the fact that I'd been kidnapped quite amusing.

"Enlevé ? Par ces amateurs ?" he asked teasingly, sweeping his hand to indicate my other pirate companions. (Kidnapped? By these amateurs?)

"Oui," I replied, smiling at the mild insult he had slipped in.

"Et vous ont-ils traité bien ?" he asked, helping himself to the Bordeaux on the table. (And have they treated you well?)

"Aussi bien que peut être prévu," I replied with a little shrug. (As well as can be expected)

"Quand vous pneu de cet escroc, vous pourriez apprécier l'hospitalité française un peu plus," he said with mild hauteur, "Je vous assure que nous savons traiter une dame sur mon bateau."(When you tire of this rogue, you might enjoy French hospitality a little more. I assure you we know how to treat a lady on my ship.)

Barbossa cleared his throat a bit pointedly, and I knew that he understood enough French to get the general drift of my conversation with Chevalle.

Finally, I suggested that we return to English, as not everyone at the table spoke French.

Chevalle saluted Barbossa with his glass of the fine Bordeaux that Lily had brought to the table specifically for him. "So, Hector, 'ow long are you in Tortuga?"

"Probably another day or two," Barbossa replied. "And you, Andre? How long will the _Fancy _be in port?"

"Ze same," he said. "I 'ave a prospect in ze Mediterranean zat I must look into."

At that moment, two servants arrived at the table, one with a tray, and one that went to whisper something to Tortuga Lil. On the tray was the most obscene amount of caviar I have ever seen, and I realized that Turk had been right. Barbossa, entertaining two ladies and another Pirate Lord, was evidently pulling out all the stops.

My curiosity about what had been whispered to Lily was satisfied a moment later as everyone helped themselves to caviar and she stood. "Well, I'll see to setting another place if it's alright with you, Hector?"

The captain raised an eyebrow at her from where he was helping himself to caviar. "Now what?" he asked, seeing her knowing look.

"I believe you would want me to invite Captain Teague on your behalf as well?" she asked.

Barbossa waved her off. "By all means," he replied, glancing at Chevalle, "if that meets yer approval, Andre?"

Chevalle was busy with the caviar and his wine, along with Turk, who he was seated next to. "But of course," he said casually, "it would be an honor."

Lilith nodded and left again to fetch this Captain Teague, and I waited for some explanation while I finally decided that I shouldn't let my share of the caviar go to waste. It was better than any I'd had at the Becketts' dinner parties.

When no one offered me any explanation, I finally spoke up. "This Captain Teague," I asked, between bites of the excellent caviar, "he's another Pirate Lord?"

"Nay, not anymore. Cap'n Teague be a scurvy old seadog that has been named as Keeper of the Code," Barbossa said, leaning my way.

"The code?" I asked, not understanding what he was referring to.

"Aye, the Pirate Code," Barbossa replied with a nod.

I smiled, thinking him to be making it up. "A Pirate _Code_?" I asked doubtfully. "And do your friends, Guy and Louis follow the pirate code?" I asked, referring to the last fabrication he had told me for my amusement.

Chevalle piped up cheerfully across the table. "But, of course. You know Guy and Louis, Madeline?" he asked.

Needless to say the look on Barbossa's face was a bit smug as I realized he had been telling me the truth about the pirate twins.

"So, there really is a Pirate Code?" I asked him.

"Aye, May," he said, taking another helping of caviar, "set down by Morgan hisself."

Chevalle spoke up again. "Perhaps ze only one 'oo knows more about ze code zan Barbossa, is Teague."

Barbossa gave Chevalle a gracious nod to acknowledge the compliment and then looked up. "Aha, speak of the devil..."

Again our group rose from the table as the tall, brooding and fierce-looking Keeper of the Code arrived to join us. Introduction was made for me again, and I was extremely glad to be free of Teague's piercing gaze and firm handshake as I retreated back to my chair. I was also only too happy to slide it a little closer to Barbossa at that point when Teague took the seat to my left.

Our company was then six – myself, Barbossa, Lily, Turk, Chevalle and Teague around the table counterclockwise.

"So, Edward, what brings ye all the way to Tortuga?" Barbossa asked casually, passing the caviar to the newcomer.

Teague's voice was deep, gruff and dark like his appearance. "I'm lookin' for Jack," he stated simply, downing a mouthful of the caviar.

An uncomfortable silence fell across the table for a moment, and I noticed that Barbossa needed to unclench his teeth before he spoke again. "So," he said, composing himself and continuing on, "Jack Sparrow be in Tortuga, eh?"

"Jack Sparrow?" I asked, knowing of the infamous pirate from living in the Caribbean for some time.

Barbossa shot me an unhappy questioning glance. "Ye've heard of Jack Sparrow, May?"

"I would imagine there are few people in the Caribbean who haven't," I replied earnestly. I realized immediately that it was probably not a comment that pleased Barbossa by the look that crossed his face.

Teague spoke up again. "I heard a rumor he was about town, but I haven't been able to find him."

"So, maybe he's not here after all," Barbossa said, sounding perhaps a little hopeful.

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to be found," Teague replied, a wry grin now making its way across his weathered face.

At that moment, another servant arrived, bringing the next course, which, as it turned out, was an enormous mound of oysters on the half shell -raw of course.

I must admit that the enthusiasm of my five companions was considerably greater than my own, having never eaten raw oysters, and not finding an overwhelming desire to do so at that moment.

Barbossa noticed that I refrained from indulging. "Do ye not care for oysters, May?"

"I've never had them," I said, feeling a little queasy at the thought of eating one of the slimy little crustaceans.

"Well, ye must try at least one," he said, "here, I'll show you." He reached for one and deftly separated the oyster from its shell with the end of his dagger, and then handed it to me. "Go on. I know ye have a sense of adventure," he said.

I noticed Lilith was watching me with an odd look on her face that I didn't care for, before I returned to studying the slimy little white thing in the shell I held. I braced myself to eat it. "What is the point of eating these uncooked?" I asked, and then tossed it into my mouth as the others were doing.

Lilith picked that precise moment to answer me. "Raw oysters are considered an aphrodisiac, Madeline," she said, with a self-satisfied look.

I nearly choked on the oyster, and did my best to gag it down. "How interesting," I croaked, not really knowing what else to say.

Of course, my pirate companions found my discomfort extremely amusing. "Another?" Barbossa asked me, still laughing.

"No," I replied, "thank you."

Lily went on, swirling her wine in her glass. " Actually, all that caviar you ate is considered in the same vein," she said knowingly, clearly to prolong my unease about the subject.

"What?" I asked.

Chevalle clarified her statement for me. "Caviar is also an aphrodesiaque, no?"

I was determined at that point not to let Lily intimidate me any more, and I fortified myself with a sip of wine before I spoke.

"Well, it would seem to me that I couldn't possibly think of a group that needs an aphrodisiac less than a crew of pirates on shore leave," I said rather bluntly.

Evidently my pirate companions found my observation quite funny, and Teague raised his glass to me as he laughed. "No truer words were ever spoken, luv."

I caught the approving look from Turk across the table, and finally laughed along with them.

By that point, dinner had arrived, and I have to say that it also topped anything served by my neighbors, the Becketts. Lily had had the kitchen prepare rumaki, spicy conch grilled in banana leaves, and fried sweet plantains. Barbossa had her send for several more bottles of wine, and it wasn't long before I found that conversation with the Keeper of the Pirate Code and two Pirate Lords came much easier.

Turk and Chevalle were laughing about something together across the table, and Chevalle spoke up when I met his gaze. "Evidently conque is also a food of ze goddess, Aphrodite," he said, teasing me.

I recall that I rolled my eyes at him and laughed, and then suddenly a light went on in my head and I set my wine down, having had an illuminating thought.

Barbossa sensed something change in my manner, and leaned closer to whisper to me. "Are you alright?"

I met his eyes, and he knew I had something I wanted to tell him by the look on my face. "What?" he whispered.

"Not here," I said, and I could tell his curiosity was stirred.

"Lil," he said, turning to where she sat on his other side, "mayhap Madeline might see yer garden? She be needin' a breath of fresh air."

"Of course," she said, placing her napkin on the table and making as if to stand.

"Nay, I'll show her," Barbossa said, putting a restraining hand lightly on her arm. "We'll not be but a minute."

Lilith knew Barbossa well enough to keep any further comment to herself and returned to engaging Captain Teague in conversation across the table, while I rose from my own chair and followed where Barbossa led out one of the nearby doors.

The short corridor beyond ran past the kitchens, and then outside to a veranda surrounded by a large and quite lovely tropical garden, accented here and there with English roses and oriental lilies.

Barbossa scanned the area to make sure that no one was nearby and led me to the far end of the garden, which overlooked the ocean.

I paused before speaking, captivated as I was by the garden around me and the view of the sunset just disappearing beneath the waves on the horizon. Standing in that small patch of paradise, it was difficult to believe that it was on the grounds of a glorified whorehouse in a seedy little town known for drunkenness and debauchery.

I must have been contemplating the view for a moment longer than I realized, and Barbossa spoke up next to me. "Yer thinkin' about somethin'," he commented from where he stood, also looking out at the sea, "what might it be?"

I glanced at him and gave him a brief smile. "I was thinking how strange it seems that Tortuga has a spot like this that's so..." I hesitated, having been about to use the word _romantic_, and then decided that it wasn't a word I felt comfortable using at the moment, with only the pirate captain for company.

"Picturesque?" Barbossa finished for me.

I nodded. "Yes, precisely," I replied, relieved by his choice of words. The feeling was short lived.

"Hmm," he said, drawing his dagger. He stepped closer to where I was standing and looked just past me toward a rosebush covered in coral pink blooms. "If ye ask me...exotic garden...fine view," he said, examining a couple of flowers, and then hacking one off with the dagger. "Ye might almost say 'twere romantic."

He offered me the rose with that slight roguish smile in place, and I was suddenly at a loss as to whether I should take it. I didn't want to insult him by refusing it, but truth be told... he'd just stolen it.

"Lilith won't be happy that you just picked that, I imagine," I said, aware of just how close he was standing to me, waiting still to see if I would take the flower.

"Would ye?" he asked, waiting patiently.

I admit that I was at a loss as to just how I was feeling about the answer to his question, and I became uneasy and walked a few steps away to look at the water again. "You should have just left it," I said, very softly.

He came to stand directly behind me, and I dared not look at him again. "What I should do, and what I wish to do, be two entirely different things, more often than not," he said. I tensed suddenly when I felt his hands at the back of my hair, and I realized he was tucking the small bloom that I hadn't taken, there among the silver combs.

"I think by now ye know me to be a man inclined to do as I want, and not as I should?" he asked from very close behind me, finished with his placement of the rose.

I was having trouble with the fact that I found his actions to be audacious and enchanting simultaneously, and didn't reply.

"Mas ele que nao se atreve a agarrar o espinho nunca deveria desejar a rosa," he said quietly, and then he walked a few paces away.

"What does that mean?" I asked him.

"'Tis an old Portuguese sayin'," he replied, one glance at where I stood, and then he looked back over the sea. "_But he that dares not grasp the thorn, should never crave the rose._"

I once again realized that there was apparently a lot more to Barbossa than I had thought.

"What is it ye wanted to tell me inside?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Chevalle's comment about Aphrodite," I began tentatively, having temporarily been distracted from the reason we'd come outside in the first place.

I could tell Barbossa wasn't following at first.

"She's the Greek goddess of love," I explained.

"I'm quite aware of that, Madeline," he replied a little stiffly.

"Sorry, then you know that legend also says she's mother to the god, Eros," I said gently, not wishing to insult him.

Barbossa narrowed his eyes as he thought it over. "And who would Eros be?"

I dreaded telling him what I had figured out at that moment, but I knew it was a bit of information that he was going to be very interested in. "The Greek god of erotic love," I replied, praying he'd just take the information at face value.

Barbossa's eyes went wide when he understood what I was saying. "Giver of desire, giver of lust –that would be Eros." Preoccupied with information about the map, he made no other comment.

"Yes, and I'm willing to bet the answer to each one of those stanzas is the name of a mythological persona," I continued.

"Aye, Roman and Greek," Barbossa added, making the next jump. "'Tis a sure bet that is why some of the lines be in Latin, and some be in Greek. Would that I had the map with us..."

I could sense his excitement over possibly solving the next part of the riddle, and I admit that I found it somewhat contagious.

"I'd return us to the ship tonight, but Master Turk would have me head if I deny him a visit with Lil's ladies," he said, laughing a bit.

"It can wait until tomorrow," I said, not sounding completely convinced.

Barbossa seemed to be mulling something over. "We might yet be able to answer it tonight. Can ye recall the lines?"

"Most of them," I replied, wondering where he was headed with this.

"Aye, between the two of us we ought to be able to remember it all," he said. "We can finish it after dinner."

"What about the others?" I asked, instinctively knowing that Barbossa would never want to discuss the map in front of the other pirates.

"That be a simple matter," Barbossa said. "Gettin' Lilith out of the picture will prove a bit more difficult..."

I could tell that Barbossa had already solved the problem by the sly look that flashed across his eyes. "Come," he said, taking my hand and leading me back across the garden briskly. "I have it all worked out in me head."

"You do?" I asked, laughing at him a little as he pulled me along, anxious to get back to the waiting group.

"Aye, workin' it out on my part was easy," he said, stopping outside the door and looking at me. "'Tis your part that may now prove difficult," he said softly, seeming a bit more serious.

"What's so difficult about my part?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know, and very aware of the fact that my fingers were still against his own, enclosed gently in the leather gauntlet that he wore on his shooting hand.

His eyes met mine steadily. "Yer going to have to trust me."

"Oh," was all I managed to answer as he let go and stepped aside for me to pass and enter first, falling in right behind me as we made our way back to the table.

We must have looked like a pair of cats that had shared a canary, because I saw Turk scrutinizing us as we returned and sat down again. "What were you two up to just now?" he asked with a suspicious grin.

Barbossa picked his napkin back up to return to his dinner. "May and I were jus' havin' a philosophical discussion in the garden about love and lust," he said, somewhat truthfully.

After the looks his comment earned me from the other pirates, I wanted to tear the feathers off his hat and shove them down his throat. I felt my face get very warm where I was trying to sink into my chair.

Turk gave me a very puzzled sideways look, and I managed to flash a bit of an unsteady smile at him as if to say it was the most natural thing in the world for me to have been discussing those topics with Barbossa.

He didn't buy it of course, but he said nothing and took another sip of his wine.

When dinner was over, and the last of the six bottles of Bordeaux we'd consumed was at its end, the pirates then decided to switch to something stronger. Lilith ordered for rum to brought to the table, and she was smart enough to have it served by a pretty little thing with auburn hair that somehow found her way into Chevalle's lap.

Of course, I'd had my share of the lovely Bordeaux at dinner, and was a bit lightheaded at that point in a pleasant way, but I made it a point to stick to the same measure of rum for the rest of the evening, deciding firmly that I'd best not drink much of it.

Captain Teague was in the middle of telling a tale of an encounter he'd had a few years back with the East India Trading Company, regaling us with the details of the battle between his ship and the EITC vessel. Required to turn a fair bit to give his attention to Teague on my left, Barbossa had managed, I realized after a moment, to drape his arm across the back of my chair.

I did my best to ignore him, but by the time the second bottle of rum arrived with yet another girl, and Teague had finished his tale and was sharing his chair and his rum with the blonde that had arrived, Barbossa's fingers were toying absently with a wisp of hair that had come loose and fallen against the back of my neck from where he'd placed the rose.

I didn't really hear much of the tale that Chevalle was immersed in next, as I had become a bit preoccupied with the fact that Barbossa had shifted closer to me in his own chair, and had let his arm fall lightly across my shoulders. I was starting to panic, but was reluctant to make a scene, and decided to continue to ignore him.

I tried to concentrate on the story that Chevalle was in the middle of, but the fact that Barbossa had started lazily running his long nails up and down the back of my neck quite frankly had commanded my complete undivided attention. I nearly bolted from my chair, except at that moment Barbossa drew me a little nearer to him, and leaned very close to whisper in my ear. "Do ye trust me?" he asked very softly, so that I was the only one who would hear.

--

**A/N**: The old Portuguese saying about the rose is actually a favorite quote of mine by Anne Bronte, 19th century poet and novelist.

Oysters, conch and caviar are all, in fact, considered aphrodisiacs by some people, but Barbossa, as Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, merely has a fondness for caviar from spending time in that region, as we learn about in the extras for AWE in the section about the nine Pirate Lords.

Last note – While Jack Sparrow will be mentioned once or twice, he will not appear in this particular story. ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Before you decide that what Barbossa does to poor May when he first gets her alone is out of character, keep in mind that I was contemplating what his sense of humor must be like as he chases Elizabeth around the cabin in CotBP and actually snarls _'aaarrrgh_,' at her, clearly to startle her and amuse himself. ;)

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**Chapter Nineteen ~*~**

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__

I tried to concentrate on the story that Chevalle was in the middle of, but the fact that Barbossa had started lazily running his long nails up and down the back of my neck quite frankly had commanded my complete undivided attention. I nearly bolted from my chair, except at that moment Barbossa drew me a little nearer to him, and leaned very close to whisper in my ear. "Do ye trust me?" he asked very softly, so that I was the only one who would hear.

--

I thought it was about the oddest question Barbossa could have asked me at that point, and then I took his meaning and realized what he was up to.

It was obvious that by that point, when a third girl of Lilith's had stationed herself with Turk, and stood behind his chair rubbing his shoulders, that our three pirate companions were shortly going to be leaving us for the rest of the evening to pursue other means of entertainment. That would leave me alone with Barbossa and Lilith, and she had already convinced herself that he had brought me along for his own amusement. It wouldn't be much of a stretch for her to be convinced that he wanted me alone somewhere, and we could then have time undisturbed to work on the map's riddle.

I gave him the tiniest sideways glance. "Not completely," I whispered, actually a bit amused, "but I'll play along."

"Good," he breathed near my ear, "'twill be more fun if ye do."

"You mean more convincing?" I asked very softly, turning to look at where he was still leaning extremely close.

"Aye, that too," Barbossa replied, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I realized at that point that he was probably flirting with me for real as well, and I couldn't help that I felt my face get warm yet again. I was thankful that the lighting was fairly dim.

I was doubly glad when I noticed the look Turk shot Barbossa, obviously surprised that the captain was suddenly appearing to make so much headway in the romance department with his kidnapped surgeon.

Barbossa saw Turk's look as well, and merely shrugged as he raised his glass again to his lips with the hand that wasn't sliding down my bare back at that moment. Not sure I wanted to play along that convincingly, I leaned back hard in the chair, trapping his hand before it traveled any lower, and managed to appear to be snuggling into his embrace.

Chevalle had finished his story, and as it appeared to be time to say goodnight and let our companions take their leave, I took the opportunity to leap out of my chair as the others all stood and said their thanks, and wished each other safe travels at sea. Turk shot Barbossa a wink, and was off with the shapely brunette that was now hanging off his good arm, leaving me alone with Barbossa and Lilith.

"Well," Lilith said, giving me an odd look that I couldn't place, but didn't like, "it's getting late. Is there anything else I can get for you, Hector?" she asked.

Barbossa nodded and drew her aside, speaking quietly enough to her that I couldn't discern what they were discussing. After a minute, Lilith nodded. "I'll be right back," she said, walking across the room.

If I thought I was in the clear at that point, then it is because I had still underestimated Barbossa's wicked sense of humor, and just before Lilith returned, he had grabbed my arm and pulled, and I suddenly found myself in his lap.

"Have you enjoyed yer evenin'?" he asked, apparently amused by the way I tensed when he slid his arm around me.

"Up until now," I said stiffly, shooting him a tiny glare.

"What?" he asked, obviously enjoying himself. "Ye don't find this cozy?"

I looked away again quickly. "No."

"Yeh haven't moved," he replied more gently, implying that I must like being where I was.

I frowned at him. "I thought you wanted to convince Lilith that you and I..."

"Lilith?" he interrupted.

"Did ye not notice that Lilith be absent at present?" he asked, and I realized what he was doing at that moment had little to do with the charade he had started at dinner for Lilith's benefit.

I huffed at him indignantly, causing him to chuckle softly. "You're a monster," I said softly, without much conviction.

"Aye, but there be somethin' ye'd best know about this _monster_, May," he said, pausing long enough that I finally looked at him for the explanation.

He adopted that maddeningly charming arrogance that he often did in my presence again. "I've yet to find meself afraid of a few thorns," he said, referring back to his comment earlier in the garden, and reaching up to let the strands of hair that had fallen loose near the rose slip through his fingers.

I might not have been able to look away from that intense blue gaze were it not for the fact that Lilith cleared her throat rather pointedly from where she had returned.

"The things you asked for will be waiting for you in the north garden room," she said somewhat stiffly.

I climbed off Barbossa's lap as casually as I could, and took his arm again as he headed for the door. I found it interesting that he knew exactly where the north garden room was on the second floor, but refrained from asking why.

He let go of my arm and opened the door to the room, indicating I should go first, so I walked in ahead of him, taking in the elegant furnishing that filled the room. There were two armchairs near a table on which had been placed ink and paper, as well as a pitcher and pair of glasses, and a large four posted bed sat where it had a view out the French doors, which evidently overlooked the garden and the ocean.

Barbossa shut and locked the door behind me, and I headed for the table where the ink and paper were, but I got no more than two steps before he managed to grab me by the arm and yank me back around toward him. I gasped as he drew me in closely, one arm around my waist.

"Did ye really believe I wanted you alone to work on the map?" he growled, sliding his free hand around the back of my neck and pulling me against him roughly.

At a complete loss for words, I found myself frozen in shock for a moment at what a complete fool I'd been, mouth open in horror as I realized I was probably now at the mercy of the pirate, who only a short while before was asking for my trust.

I wasn't sure if it would do me any good to scream, but I would have given it a good effort if it weren't for the fact that Barbossa abruptly let go of me and sat down on the edge of the bed, sniggered and then threw his head back and laughed wickedly.

Unsure of just what madness had overtaken him, I stood rooted to the spot, still at a loss as to what had just happened or what to do. Finally he managed to stop laughing long enough to speak.

"I may now run the risk of ye stabbing me as I sleep," he said, still completely amused, "but 'twas completely worth it to see the look on yer face when I grabbed you."

"What?" I demanded, starting to comprehend what he had done. "What?"

He fell into another fit of laughter, holding onto his ribs as he did so.

"You thought that was funny?" I cried, still not sure my heart would ever return to a normal pace.

"Aye," he gasped, from where he was still chuckling.

At first I was furious, but the more he laughed, the more I began to find what he had done amusing, and started to smile despite myself. "It's not funny," I admonished him, no longer succeeding in sounding annoyed. "You scared me half to death."

"Apologies, May," he said, composing himself but still smiling. "I admit 'twas a wicked thing to do, but I couldn't help meself. Must come from bein' a _monster_ fer as long as I have," he said, giving me a wry smile.

"It must," I agreed as he stood up and came toward me.

"Will ye forgive me?" he asked, standing before me.

"I'll put it on the list for consideration," I said, implying that it wasn't the only unpleasant thing he'd done to me.

"And what mean ye by that?" he asked.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," I replied quietly. "Do you need me to spell out what you've put me through these past weeks?"

"Nay, I don't," he said, sounding apologetic. "I wish that ye hadn't found things so unpleasant, but I'll not say I regret havin' brought you aboard my ship."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, and the look I gave him must have said as much.

"I might have lost Turk had ye not been on board," he replied, "and I would be the poorer fer not having met you, Madeline Gray."

I could see no trace of mockery in his expression, and I might have found it easier to meet his gaze if there had been any.

"Might I ask somethin' and expect ye to answer me plainly?" he inquired, still watching me carefully.

I nodded, not sure what he would ask.

"I know that you wish that ye'd not been…kidnapped," he said, "but do you regret every moment that ye've spent on board my ship?" He sounded like my answer might actually matter to him.

I hesitated for a minute and then shook my head, finally giving him a smile. "No," I said softly, "nor every minute I've known you, Captain Barbossa."

He looked pleased with my answer, and then seeing that I had quickly retreated to one of the chairs, swept off his hat and tossed it on the table. "Shall we get to work, then?" he asked, tossing his coat alongside the hat and rolling up his sleeves as he walked to sit at the table with me.

We drew the two chairs a little closer together, and hovered over the paper on the table as I acted as scribe this time, and we did our best to re-create the riddle that had been on the map.

"Do you remember which ones said 'name' in Latin and which in Greek?" I asked, having completed the final stanza a while later.

"Aye," he nodded, "they went Latin, two Greek, and then the same again.

I made a notation by each stanza with an 'R' or a 'G', impressed that he had paid attention to the pattern that I had missed.

I filled in the names Neptune and Eros next to the lines we had already solved, which left us four more names to come up with.

"Shall we start with the first?" I asked, indicating the Roman clue for 'son of war, son of wolf'.

Barbossa shrugged. "We might as well. They'll all need solvin' sooner or later." He looked at me expectantly as it was obvious my exposure to Greek and Roman mythology had been greater than his.

I thought out loud for a few moments. "Son of war might mean a warrior….but son of wolf…..wolf is lupus…lupine…hmm…what stems from war…destruction…death…"

"Who be the god of war?" Barbossa asked. "I think this to be more literal than figurative."

"Ares," I replied, "well, that is, Mars if we need the Roman name."

"And who be the son of Mars?" Barbossa asked.

"He had many sons," I replied. "In Greek and Roman mythology, the gods had many affairs and dalliances with mortals. It's how many of the heroes of legend were born."

"Well, which one was born to a wolf, or someone with a name that means wolf?" he suggested, trying to pick my brain.

"I don't remember any Roman legend about a wolf..." and of course the answer dawned on me as I spoke.

Barbossa waited patiently while I worked it out for certain.

"It's completely obvious," I said. "The most well known legend with a wolf is that of Romulus and Remus, sons of Mars that were saved from drowning by a she-wolf and raised as her own."

Barbossa frowned. "Which one is it? We need but one name."

"I'd bet on Romulus," I said, "as he is the legendary founder of Rome, but we'll have to keep both in mind." I wrote 'Romulus' in as the next answer.

We both leaned over the page to see what the next stanza was. 'Father of river, father of sea,' was what I had inked on the page, and we needed the Greek version.

"Well, on the surface it seems as if it should be Poseidon," I said, "but somehow..."

"Somehow it doesn't seem right if there already be a clue about Neptune," Barbossa finished, thinking along the same lines I had been. "What about Triton?"

I gave him a look that said I was impressed with the fact that he had come up with the name of another Greek sea deity, but I didn't think it was the right answer as Triton was the son of Poseidon, and had no offspring that were major players in the Greek pantheon. I explained my reasoning to Barbossa.

"Then take it a step back," he suggested. "Who is the father of Poseidon?"

"The titan Oceanus," I said after a few minutes of thinking. It made sense. Oceanus was the god of the river-ocean that the ancient Greeks first thought surrounded the world.

Barbossa grinned, pleased that we had solved another clue. "I'm quite impressed, Miss Gray," he said.

"It was your idea," I said waving him off, "I just came up with the name." I tried to stifle a yawn at that point, as it was getting quite late.

"Shall we call it a night?" Barbossa asked me, noticing how tired I was starting to seem.

"No, I want to see if we can finish this," I said, but then tried to fight back another yawn. "We only have two more."

"Alright," he said, and looked at what I had written next while I pressed my palms to my eyes. "Greek... mother of victory, mother of air."

"Nike," I said, not even needing him to finish. "She's the winged goddess of victory."

"Yer sure?" he asked, quill poised over the paper.

I nodded, and covered up another yawn.

"Well, the last one can certainly wait until mornin'," he said, folding the paper we had written on and tucking it away in a pocket in his waistcoat. "Ye've done enough fer one night."

While I recall that I was a bit disappointed to quit with only one name left to figure out, I remember being completely exhausted at that point and thankful that he didn't insist on trying to finish them all.

I also recall suddenly realizing that we had a new problem to work out, and knowing Barbossa as well as I did by that point, I knew he wasn't going to let it slide by without having some fun at my expense.

I was right, of course, and the bloody pirate didn't waste any time as he stood up from the table, stretched and yawned.

"Well, then, May," he said slyly, walking the short distance across the room to the far side of the bed, "I'll leave it to you to work out yer next problem." At that point he flopped down on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head and crossing one booted foot casually over the other.

I was tired and a bit grouchy at that point, and didn't want to play any more games. "Just what do you think you're doing?" I asked indignantly.

He opened his eyes and answered me in an innocent tone that was much too contrived for me to buy his answer. "Gettin' a bit of shut -eye," he replied.

"And just where am I supposed to sleep?" I asked, getting more irritated with him by the moment.

Of course, he'd been banking on the fact that I would ask that, and he rolled over to prop himself up on one elbow, and patted the bed next to him.

I don't know why I was as offended as I was, realizing by then that I should expect that sort of torment from him. "You must be joking," I said, obviously annoyed.

"Where be that sense of adventure, lass?" he purred, quite obviously amused at my discomfort once again.

I glared at him a moment longer and then sighed with an air of defeat, tired as I was. "Is there a reason that you can't just be nice for a little while?" I asked, not having the strength left to be angry any more.

"Nay," he said, softly. "Yer right. Ye've done yer best to be civil and polite from the moment I met you, and I've done naught but taunt you fer me own amusement," he admitted. "I've not meant you wrong by it."

"Well, it makes it difficult for me to trust you, when you constantly..."

"You can trust me," he said, quite serious. "I'll tell ye true that if you don't do anything to cross me directly, no harm will come to you by my doing." He was watching my reaction quite carefully. "You know me to be a man of me word, May."

I had to admit he was right about that.

"Besides," he said, reverting back to his arrogant manner. "I recall already tellin' you in no uncertain terms that ye'd be the first know when I was of a mind to actually part you from yer dress."

I couldn't help but smile at his wicked flirtations, knowing that he was probably trying to get me to laugh. "I believe, Captain, that you used the word '_if_' and not '_when_' that night."

"Did I, now?" he asked. "Well, obviously I hadn't seen you in _that _dress, yet," he said, still flirting but paying me an offhanded compliment.

I found myself struggling not to continue to smile. "You know, it's comments like that which make it more difficult for me to trust you."

"Apologies," he said, smirking slightly, "but it's a dress like the one ye be wearin' as makes it more difficult for you to trust me."

I was about to point out to him again that he wasn't helping his cause in the trust department if he was going to say things like that, when a knock at the door saved me from having to do so.

"Merda!" Barbossa swore under his breath, leaping off the bed and snatching his sword up from the table. "Get away from the door, Madeline!" he whispered urgently, as someone knocked again.

I didn't know who he thought was out there, but I didn't hesitate in dashing behind him as he stood to one side of the door with his sword in hand, about to call to whoever was in the hall.

"Hector, it's Lil," came the muffled voice fro the other side of the door. "Put down your sword and open the door," she ordered, demonstrating that she obviously knew him quite well.

Barbossa did as she said, and unlatched the door, letting Lilith sweep quickly into the room.

"My apologies, Hector, for disrupting your evening," she said, "but I need the doctor if she is willing to come."

Tired as I was, Lilith had said the magic words '_need the doctor_,' that fired up my adrenaline and caused the physician part of my brain to take over.

"Of course," I said, "What is it? I was already following her as she retreated out the door and Barbossa fell in behind us as we hurried down the hall.

"It's one of my girls," Lilith explained as we hurried along. "She's in labor and having a difficult time of it." Lilith gave me a worried look. "We can't keep a midwife in Tortuga, and this is beyond what I can help her with."

We reached another door and Lilith opened it, letting me through. She threw out a hand to keep the captain from following. "No men are allowed beyond here, not even you, Hector." Her manner was so final that even Barbossa didn't argue as she shut him on the other side of the door.

While I was prepared for the disheveled state of the small room in which the birthing had commenced, I really wasn't prepared for how young my patient was going to be. What had required this girl that was likely barely of age to turn to such a lifestyle in order to support herself, was beyond my comprehension, and my heart went out to her as I saw how exhausted and scared she seemed.

Lilith went to speak to her. "This is the doctor, love. She's here to help."

I went to speak to the girl, wanting to assess her first. "My name is Madeline," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I just want to have a look at you before we tackle what's going on below, alright?"

"Ok," she said, sounding scared and tired.

"What's your name?" I asked her as I checked her pulses and felt her abdomen.

"Giselle," she answered, clenching her teeth as another contraction came and went, leaving her panting.

"Alright, let's see what's going on with this little one," I said, drawing back the blanket that had been draped over her, only then becoming aware of the fact that three or four other women were waiting anxiously nearby to see what would happen.

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	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Thanks to _Bowie281_ and _Dizzles the Dizzy_ for beta-ing the dream sequence for me a while back. If you like it, you have them to thank for encouraging me to post it. If you don't, I suggest you blame them as well.

;) Just kidding. Luv ya both!

Bit of a long chapter again, but there was no place else to end this one!

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**Chapter Twenty**

**--**

The problem was apparent almost immediately as I discovered that the baby, in its apparent rush to greet the outside world, hadn't turned, and was trying to be born backside first. Not an ideal delivery scenario by any means, especially as the baby had descended far into the pelvic canal.

"Well," I said calmly, trying to reassure Giselle, where she was obviously frightened about what was going on, "this little sweetheart is in a terrible hurry, but is going about things a little backwards. I'm going to have to help things move along a bit, alright?"

She nodded, and I turned to draw Lilith across the room to speak with her. "This isn't the worst I've seen, but the baby is pretty far down." I looked at her meaningfully. "I'm going to have to make a little more room if I'm to minimize the risk to both of them."

Lilith looked at me steadily, and nodded. She knew after all her years dealing with this sort of situation, what I meant.

"It'll be quite unpleasant for Giselle, but better in the long run for both of them," I continued. "I need to do this quickly."

Lilith nodded. "I'll explain it to her. Just tell Katrina what you need, and she'll get it." Lilith indicated one of the other women in the room, who stepped forward to assist as soon as she heard her name.

I remember all the women in the room working together quickly to comfort Giselle, and bring me everything I asked for with great efficiency, and while I won't go into the graphic details of performing an episiotomy, I will say just how brave Giselle was as she found herself under my knife.

Evidently the baby had been waiting for someone to figure out that all he needed was a little more space, and he wasted no time in making further progress, as Giselle grunted and pushed. I helped manipulate his tiny legs so they wouldn't get caught up on the way out, and the next moment, I held two thirds of a baby in my hands.

"Blanket," I said to Katrina, who stood at my elbow, and she slipped the blanket under the little body to catch him as I gently freed his head, and wrapped him up as he began to bawl heartily while I attended to the birth cord.

I indicated that she should take him to his anxious mother, and I would daresay that Giselle hardly noticed me as I sutured the incision I had made as she cradled her new son in her arms.

On the occasions that I have been lucky enough to be the one attending a successful birth, it has always been my favorite part to watch the new mother fall in love with her infant all over again, once they'd met face to face, and I smiled where I stood next to Lilith, who was apparently feeling the same thing.

She drew me aside to speak to me as I did my best to wash the residual blood off my hands and arms. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you did for Giselle."

"It was my pleasure," I said, smiling at her. "A baby is a lovely breath of fresh air for me after dealing with so many pirates."

Lilith laughed and nodded. "Evidently we feel the same way about that." She sobered after a moment. "I'm sorry if I seemed to give you a difficult time earlier," she said.

"Don't give it another thought," I said, deciding that I might like the woman after all.

"Madeline, if there's anything I can ever do for you," she said, seemingly in earnest.

I perked up at her offer. "Actually," I said, "I believe there is."

--

Lilith's intent had been to provide me with my own room so that I would have some privacy and a decent night's sleep, and while I did in fact have privacy, a restful night was something that eluded me mostly because of the dream.

I had been asleep for a short while when the dreams began, and the one I remembered most vividly began with the situation from earlier, just after dinner...

_Barbossa was speaking a short distance away to Lilith who nodded. "I'll be right back," she said, walking across the room. As he had at dinner, he'd returned to his own chair, and while she was gone, decided to torment me by grabbing me by the arm and pulling me down to sit in his lap. _

_He slid his arms around me and pulled me closer, clearly amusing himself by seeing what I would do. It seemed like it was taking Lilith forever to come back, and I sat there rigidly, wishing she'd hurry._

"_Ye seem a bit tense, lass," Barbossa said, much too close for comfort. "I said yer part would be difficult, didn't I?"_

"_Yes, well, you're not doing anything to make it any easier to trust you," I said, not looking at him._

_He reached out with one hand and turned me by the chin to look at him. "Where would be the fun it makin' it easy?" he asked, leaning even closer._

_My heart skipped a beat when I saw his gaze drop momentarily to my lips, and I panicked. "Let go," I said, trying to pull away._

_He tightened his grip a degree. "Why?" he asked._

"_Because I said so," I replied, trying to pull away again a little without making a scene._

_He still wouldn't let go. "Am I hurtin' you?" he asked, clearly trying not to smirk._

"_No," I replied quietly, and he let go of my chin._

"_Then ye must find me company unpleasant," he said simply, watching me carefully with a wicked gleam in his eyes._

_I looked away again. "I didn't say that," I said quietly._

"_No? Then why is it I should be lettin' you go?" he asked._

_I was completely flustered once again by him, and I admit I was having trouble coming up with an answer. "You're behaving inappropriately," I said weakly._

_He laughed at me, but softly. "'Tis so much of a concern to a pirate –whether we behave appropriately or not."_

_I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out what was taking Lilith so long._

"_Care to hear what I think?" he asked. _

_I kept my eyes fastened on where I had my hands folded in my lap. "I suppose you're going to tell me whether or not I do."_

"_Aye, I suppose I am," he replied, leaning a little closer again. I could smell the rum he'd been drinking as he whispered. "Methinks ye might be overdue fer a man to behave inappropriately with ye."_

_I did manage to keep my mouth from dropping open, but I'm sure he could tell I was appalled by the furious look I faced him with._

"_Hit a nerve, did I?" he asked, smirking slightly but meeting my angry expression with an unblinking blue gaze._

_His audacity was keeping me off balance and speechless, and he changed tacks but didn't let up. He spoke more gently. "Just when be the last time ye did anythin' inappropriate yerself, Madeline Gray?"_

"_That would be none of your business!" I spat back quietly, completely outraged._

"'_Twere a simple enough question," he replied with feigned innocence._

"_It was not, and you know it!" I whispered angrily._

_That blasted charming roguish smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth. "I merely meant that ye be quite the proper lady, May. I don't imagine ye find yerself accustomed to behavin' inappropriately often." He fastened that piercing gaze on me again. " What did ye think I meant?"_

_His answer was the flush of color that rose in my cheeks._

"_Ah," he said knowingly, flustering me even more. He was toying with me like a cat with a mouse, and he very well knew it. "Well, if that's where yer mind be a-wanderin..."_

"_My mind is not wandering...you started it!" I snapped back quietly._

"_Ye be quite fetchin' when yer angry, May," he said, changing tacks again._

"_I am not angry!" I said back in a snarled whisper._

"_Well, ye still be quite fetchin', especially in that dress," he said softly._

_I found myself once again emotionally off balance and not knowing what to say._

"_Ye can't blame me fer speakin' of inappropriate things when ye be sitting next to me all evenin' wearing this," he said, letting his fingers trail gently down my skin from shoulders to very low on my back._

_I wanted to pull away from him but couldn't, and the fact that I didn't find his fingers on my skin unpleasant threw me off balance even more. When I didn't move, he slid his hand gently back up my spine until his hand rested lightly on the back of my neck, and he held me there where I was fighting a losing battle._

"_Ye didn't find that inappropriate?" he asked softly._

"_Of course," I said weakly._

"_But ye didn't find it unpleasant." It wasn't a question, and I found it even more difficult to look away from the steel blue gaze._

"_No," I heard myself say in a very small voice._

_His fingers tightened slightly on the back of my neck so I couldn't back away. "Do ye find this inappropriate?" he asked, and he bent slightly and brushed his lips against my throat, kissing me there and causing my pulse to quicken. _

_I closed my eyes and gasped my answer. "Yes."_

_He stopped for a moment, but stayed where he was, whispering near my ear. "Unpleasant?" he asked._

_I still had my eyes closed. "Decidedly not," I breathed._

"_Do ye deny that be long overdue?" he asked, nuzzling my neck a little again._

"_No." _

"_Then mayhap it be best that Lily be arrangin' a place fer me to have you alone," he said gently, and he kissed my neck again a little harder._

"_Alone?" I heard my voice break a little at his renewed efforts at my throat._

_He raised his head back up to look at me, and slid the hand that held the back of my neck around to lightly grasp my chin. His gaze went to where he lightly started to rub his thumb over my lips._

"_Aye," he said in a hoarse whisper, "I'd be inclined to behave more inappropriately with ye." _

"_More inappropriately?" I asked, knowing I was going to let him kiss me as he leaned forward._

"_Aye, inappropriately...improperly...indecently," he said tantalizingly, his gaze meeting my eyes steadily. "I know ye can't resist the thought." His manner was charmingly arrogant, and i__t occurred to me that I was being quite effectively seduced by the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea at that moment._

"_You're a monster," I said quite softly, not pulling away from him as he closed the distance._

"_Aye, and a right beast I'll be fer you, me beauty," he said wickedly, and he captured my mouth with his just a little roughly, making my heart race and my rum infused head spin as I slid my arms around his neck._

--

I sat bolt upright in bed, breathless and pulse racing. The dream had been quite real and quite vivid, and I was unsettled by the fact that not only had I dreamed of Barbossa, but what he'd been trying to do, apparently with great success.

It took me a quite a while before I could fall back asleep, as I laid there trying to figure out exactly why I would have dreamed such a thing, and exactly why it was that I couldn't honestly say it was a nightmare.

--

After I woke in the early morning and went and checked on Giselle and her son, I was escorted by several women, under Lilith's orders, to the best treat I'd had in ages - a very long and hot bath.

Katrina had returned and offered to warm up the bathwater for me once more, but I declined as I decided that I probably should finally get dressed. She had laid out fresh clothes for me, as the daring blue dress had seen it's last day after what delivering a baby had done to it. In addition to the comfortable and more reserved peasant style dress I had been given to wear, Lilith had seen to it that a number of dresses that I might find more suitable had found their way into a small trunk to be sent back with me to the _Rogue_.

Once I had a chance to get dressed and brush out my hair, Katrina escorted me to the garden to join Lilith at a table she had set up there.

She smiled and stood when I approached the table, and indicated that I should sit across from her. "I thought you might like to share a pirate-free breakfast with me," she quipped, seating herself.

"You have no idea how much," I said, helping myself to fruit and croissants.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" she asked, pouring us both tea. She laughed lightly when she saw the look on my face. "My dear, I meant dinner. I wouldn't presume to ask about the rest of your evening."

"Dinner was lovely," I said, feeling a little awkward with her comment, "and so was the wine."

"Good." She took a bite of croissant. "You know, Madeline, I have to confess that I am a bit jealous of you."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Well, there was a time when I would have loved to be the center of attention of a table full of pirates," she said. "What I wouldn't have given to have the freedom you do to sail with them on their adventures..."

"Why didn't you?" I asked.

She waved me off a little. "My lifestyle, then, as now, didn't allow for it. I was indebted to my mistress then, and too old for such nonsense now."

"I'm not sure that I have the freedom that you think you envy," I said, setting down my tea.

"I understand," she said, "but if your freedom is part of your agreement with Barbossa, it will hopefully be yours as soon as your part of your understanding is complete."

"I believe it is, now," I said, realizing that it was probably true. Turk was quite well and no longer needed my care.

Lilith sipped her tea casually. "So, last night completed your half of the bargain?" she asked, still fishing for information about what had happened in the hour or so I'd been alone in the room with Barbossa.

She'd touched a nerve and she knew it when she saw the look on my face. "Funny, I didn't think you seemed like the type that might bargain away your virtue," she said, provoking me further.

"I'm not," I said defensively, "and that was not part of our bargain."

She blinked at me innocently. "Oh, so your little tryst was pure spontaneity?"

Looking back on the conversation, I can see how deftly she manipulated me.

"I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're implying," I said, offended by her suggestion that I had.

She gave me a wry smile. "I rather thought not," she said smugly, "but that doesn't mean that you two weren't up to something...something that Hector didn't want me to know about."

I said nothing and she laughed lightly. "Come now, Madeline. I don't expect you to tell me anything. Hector would consider that dishonorable, knowing him as well as I do."

"You seem to know him very well," I said, trying to change the subject.

"I make it a point to know all the Pirate Lords well," she said honestly, a trace of arrogance in her voice, "and any of the others that I feel have sufficient stature."

"I see," I replied.

"Barbossa is one of the most dangerous, so it make sense to keep on his good side," Lilith continued, giving me a genuine smile. "Besides, there was a time long ago when he and I had an...understanding," she said softly, "much the same way you do now."

"I told you, Lilith, our agreement is not of that nature," I said once again.

She shrugged. "That doesn't mean he wouldn't like it to be, Madeline. I'd be careful about how you arrange your accords with him, darling," she said dangerously. "I saw the way he was looking at you last night."

What I know now, that I didn't know then, is that it was Lilith I shouldn't have trusted, as she undermined the small amount of faith I had begun to place in Barbossa.

"I'd be very careful about being alone with him," she continued, making me worry about the times that he and I had been completely unattended. "He's a rogue at heart, dearest, and he'll make a game out of reeling you in."

I'm sure she could see the effect her words were having on me as I began to worry.

"If I were you, I wouldn't let my guard down for a minute," she said, seeming to be giving me sisterly advice. "The moment you can, get yourself off that ship," she whispered, "I can't begin to tell you the atrocities that man is capable of, and after what you did for Giselle, well, I'd hate to think of what he might do before he's _finished_ with you."

The way she said finished clearly implied that she thought it meant dead, and I'm sure that all the color must have drained out of my face at that point.

Lilith took the opportunity to step in for the _coup de grace_. "Madeline," she said, looking around to make sure she wasn't being overheard. "I would help you escape, but I worry so about retaliation. I fear for what might happen to my girls and myself if he ever found out that I..."

"It's alright," I said, completely naively. "I would never ask you to put yourself in jeopardy."

Anything else either of us might have said went unspoken at that moment as she and I both turned at the sound of men's voices across the garden.

"So, are yeh going to tell me or not?" Turk was saying to Barbossa where they were walking towards us.

Barbossa snapped at Turk. "Stow it," he growled, and Turk evidently decided to drop whatever it was he'd been questioning the captain about as they reached the table where Lilith and I sat.

"Gentlemen, won't you join us?" Lilith said graciously, all trace of her concern for me from a moment before erased.

The two pirates joined us, and Barbossa flung himself into the chair next to me, deciding to start back in on me early. "I heard that ye left me fer another man last night," he laughed, referring to the fact that I had delivered a son for Giselle.

While a few moments before I probably would have laughed at his flirtations that I had been becoming accustomed to, I probably looked a bit uncomfortable after the conversation I'd just had with Lilith. I knew that Barbossa was sharp enough to pick up on the fact that something was amiss, but didn't know what.

I managed to get through a little more time at the table while Lilith chatted with Turk and Barbossa about where they thought the _Rogue_ would head off to next, and I finally escaped to check on Giselle one last time before we were to leave.

--

We were not the only group returning to the _Rogue_ that morning, and I was thankful once I was back on board that Barbossa had his hands full with his crew making ready to head out to sea again. I sought refuge in my small cabin, hoping that we would be underway as soon as possible. The sooner we left, the sooner we'd come across a port where I could escape ashore for good.

Later in the day, I felt the ship lurch a little as the first sails were set, the anchor was raised, and the ship came about to head back out to open water. Curiosity got the better of me, and I made it topside in time to see that Barbossa himself was at the helm, trusting no one else with navigation out of the tricky inner harbor of Tortuga.

Once we were clear of the harbor, I had to admit that it was an impressive thing indeed to see the crew efficiently and quickly set sail after sail, and it wasn't long before we had picked up a fair amount of wind, and rapidly left Tortuga behind us. I went below to my cabin again at that point, not wanting to risk an encounter with the captain.

Late that afternoon, young Hickmott knocked at my door, and informed me that the Captain requested that I have dinner with him. Wanting nothing more after my alarming conversation with Lilith than to avoid any time alone with him, I asked Hickmott to please convey my regrets to Barbossa and made the excuse that I was not well.

Evidently my lie worked, as I was left to myself in peace for the rest of the evening.

The same could not be said for the next morning, and just after I had finished getting dressed, there was a knock at my door. I prayed it wouldn't be another messenger for the captain, and I was pleasantly surprised to find Bellamy standing there looking concerned when I opened the door.

I must have looked very glad to see him, but he seemed worried when he spoke. "Are you alright, May?" he asked. "I was worried about you getting back from Tortuga ok, and then I heard Hickmott say you were ill."

"I'm fine, Michael," I said, relieved that he carried no request for my presence topside. "Just a touch of seasickness now that we're back underway." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Maybe you need some air," he suggested, and I decided that was probably a good suggestion.

"Will you walk with me?" I asked, not wanting to be an easy mark by being alone on the deck.

"Of course," he said, seeming quite pleased that I'd asked. "I'd be happy to escort you."

We walked up the companionway to the _Rogue's_ deck together, and he asked me about my evening in Tortuga.

I laughed and told him that it hadn't been nearly as relaxing as I'd hoped as I'd had to have dinner with Chevalle and Teague, and then had been called upon in the middle of the night to deliver a baby.

"Well," he said, a glint in his eye," I'll have to make sure that I stay on your good side, Doctor, now that you're nearly as well connected as Barbossa."

I laughed at his comment, and he smiled back. "I'm glad you're alright, May," he said turning and leaning his elbows on the rail next to where I stood. "I was worried that you might run into trouble in town."

"I heard that you said as much to the captain," I said, and saw that he seemed a bit embarrassed to learn that I knew of the argument he'd had with Barbossa the day before. I touched his arm lightly, trying to keep him from feeling awkward. "Thank you for looking out for me."

"You're welcome," he said, his eyes meeting mine steadily.

"Mr. Bellamy," came the first mate's voice, and we both turned to look at where Harlow was approaching. "Get below and lend a hand," he instructed gruffly. "One of the guns wasn't made fast and they need a hand getting her secured."

"Aye, sir," Bellamy said to him smartly. He winked at me and trotted off to help.

Harlow nodded to me and went about his business. I was relieved that he also had no message for me, and managed to hide in my cabin for the rest of the day, keeping busy with some of the books I had previously rescued. I managed to plead ill to beg off dinner again that evening, sending the message back with Hickmott yet again, but I knew that it was only going to be a matter of time before I had to deal with Barbossa.

That time came twenty four hours later when I desperately needed some fresh air, and decided to risk a few minutes at the rail, watching a pair of dolphins cavorting in the wake left by the _Rogue Wave_.

I knew by the uneven step on the deck behind me that it was Barbossa who approached, even before he came to lean on the rail next to me to see what I was looking at.

"They seem to do that most this time of day," he said, meaning sunset, watching the pair of dolphins dart in and out of the waves.

"Do they?" I asked, not looking at him.

We stood there in awkward silence for a moment before he spoke again. "Ye've been doin' yer best to avoid me," he said quietly. "Might I ask why?"

"I haven't been avoiding..." I stopped short when I saw that the look he gave me said that no amount of protest on my part would convince him otherwise. "I've just been feeling a bit ill, is all," I said, both of us knowing that I was doing a terrible job of lying.

"You seem to be feelin' better now," he said, turning and watching the dolphins again.

"Much better, thank you," I said quietly.

"Then mayhap ye'd have dinner with me tonight and finish the last part of the riddle," he said. "I'd hate to see you leave before it was finished."

I finally glanced at where he was still watching the dolphins racing each other and the ship, and he spoke again without looking at me. "'Twill probably be yer last night on the _Rogue_," he said quietly. "Tomorrow should find her close enough to put you ashore on the north side of Jamaica. I can't risk Montego with the fort, you understand, but there be a little village not far from there that should prove suitable."

Whatever it was I felt at that moment was very complicated, and I wouldn't begin to unravel my feelings for some time to come.

"Thank you," I managed to say, as he straightened up off the railing next to me.

"Thank me by solving the last part of Morgan's riddle fer me," he said, giving me one of his roguish half smiles, and offering me his arm once more.

For the space of a heartbeat or two, I didn't know what to do. All I could hear were Lilith's warnings echoing in my mind, yet somehow it didn't seem possible that I could be in that much danger with this man who was about to honor the agreement he'd made with me, and seemed to somehow keep asking for my trust.

Not that I had forgotten in any way that he was first and foremost a pirate, but something just didn't seem to fit. I reasoned out that if Barbossa had ever meant to harm me, he'd had plenty of opportunity already.

I looked at where he watched me patiently, still offering me his arm, and finally decided that I might be a fool, but that I had more reason to trust this man than I did to trust Tortuga Lily.

I prayed I was right, and slipped my hand under his elbow.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**--**

I let Captain Barbossa lead me to his cabin, where I discovered that he'd already arranged for the table to be set for two, and the rolled up map sat on a far corner next to the quill and ink. An open bottle of wine already waited for us, and Barbossa disengaged himself from my arm and went to pour two glasses.

"You know," I said, after surveying the way the table was laid out, "I came very close to saying _no_ just now."

He handed me the first glass of wine and poured one for himself. "I knew ye wouldn't be able to resist me," he said, back to his teasing, arrogant manner.

I rolled my eyes at him and he laughed.

"Now," he said, "before I let you see what Jerome created for dinner, I want ye to answer me one thing." He came to stand near where I was looking out one of the windows at the stern.

"What?" I asked, taking a sip of wine, and hoping it wouldn't be the question I knew he was going to ask me.

"Ye've been avoiding me since you had breakfast with Lilith. Why?" he asked insistently.

It was, and I hesitated, not sure what I should say.

"Answer me plainly, May," he demanded gently.

"She told me I shouldn't trust you," I finally said, complying reluctantly with his request.

"She did, did she?" He seemed more amused than angry.

I nodded, not really sure what to expect at that point from him.

"Somethin' to the effect that I be a dangerous and evil man, and that ye should do yer best to part company with me as soon as possible, I imagine," he said.

"Something quite like that," I said, feeling odd to be admitting it to him.

He laughed heartily at that point. "That sly old flax wench," he said. "She can't stand not to be the center of attention fer even one night, much like meself. "I'm sure that she was beside herself to have to play second fiddle all evenin'."

"I don't follow you completely," I said, starting to feel betrayed by Lilith.

"May, 'tis obvious to me if it not be to you," he said, amused by the fact that I was being naïve. "How think ye Tortuga Lily felt to have to compete with a smart, pretty, younger woman who happens yet to be a doctor?" Barbossa asked me.

I'm sure I looked quite shocked. "I never intended any sort of..."

"Aye, that's what be all the more maddenin' fer her –none of what ye be is contrived, May," he said earnestly. "And I'm sure that the entrance ye made at the Mermaid in that smart, sexy dress, on the arm of the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea didn't improve yer standin' with her either."

I laughed a little at how charming and arrogant he could be at the same time.

Barbossa had a sip of his wine before continuing. "Did she mention that she and I..."

"Used to have an understanding?" I finished for him.

"Aye, and she's never forgiven me fer walkin' away from it," he said bluntly.

"Why did you?" I surprised myself by asking.

"That be a long time ago," he said, avoiding the question.

He saw the look I was giving him and realized I wasn't going to settle for his vague answer. "To answer ye plainly, once she became mistress of the Mermaid, she became a bit too dangerous fer my own likin', and I knew it best fer both of us to stay well clear of each one another other than business. 'Twas not a popular decision with her then, and it remains unpopular with her even now."

"Well, I didn't mean to do anything to offend her," I replied, quite annoyed with the woman myself.

"It matters not," Barbossa said with a shrug. "She let herself be offended the moment you walked in with me."

I sipped my wine for a minute, thinking that I'd like to give the old witch a piece of my mind. "Lilith's a fair bit older than me," I finally said, "and even a fair bit older than you, I imagine." I had reckoned since knowing him that Barbossa was perhaps as much as a decade older than myself.

He frowned a little. "What be yer point?" he asked.

I have to admit I smirked at that point. "Well, I didn't realize you had a fondness for older women, Captain."

He waved me off, although I think he was actually amused that I had said something to tease him. "I happen to have a fondness fer interestin' women," he replied, " age notwithstandin'." He glanced at the table. "Shall we?"

I went to pull out my chair, but Barbossa beat me to it that time, much to my great surprise. I said nothing, but realized from what I could smell, that Jerome had probably outdone himself again. I was right, and we stuffed ourselves on the best _Coq au vin_ I'd had since being in France.

"So, tell me, May, why 'tis that ye were going back to England before we met," he said, glossing over the fact that the way we'd met was by him raiding the ship I'd been on.

"I was giving up my practice," I said simply, telling him the truth.

"Why?" he asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"I was getting tired of having to prove myself doubly every day," I replied. "It took a lot out of me to constantly have to work so hard to convince people that they should trust me as a real doctor."

"I would say that fight remains yers whether ye go to England or stay in Jamaica," Barbossa observed thoughtfully.

"Yes, that's probably true, but the final straw in Jamaica was the hospital," I replied. "You see, despite the fact that I had to work so hard to earn the confidence of my patients, Port Royal has a real need for doctors, and my small practice was outgrowing the little space I had in a clinic attached to my house."

I went on to explain that I had repeatedly spoken to the governor and the magistrates about opening up a larger facility, but that they didn't want a place where the sick would be housed anywhere near the town. No matter how much I argued, they refused to grant me license to build, and when I had finally located a place out of town, up on a bluff that overlooked the ocean, close to but not within Port Royal, no one would lend me the money needed to hire the building contractors. Primarily because they couldn't see a woman being able to make good on a loan of that magnitude by herself, despite the fact that she had a doctor's income to back her up.

"Idiots," Barbossa growled. "I've not met anyone more likely to keep up her end of a bargain."

I smile at him for his vote of confidence.

"What will ye do now," he asked, "stay in Port Royal, or try again to get back to England without bloody pirates interferrin'?"

"I'm not sure," I said honestly. "I've been a bit too preoccupied with those bloody pirates to give it much thought."

He chuckled at my comment and then spoke up. "I think ye ought to give it another go in Port Royal, if a humble pirate's opinion is to be counted fer anythin'."

"Should I discriminate against your opinion just because you're a pirate?" I asked, teasing him.

"Pirate or no, I wouldn't think my opinion would matter to ye," he answered me simply.

"Neither would I, but for some reason, it does," I said softly.

"Well," he said, standing and clearing the rest of the plates off the table, and then pouring the last of the wine in our glasses, "I'll take that as quite a compliment, since it's comin' from you, Madeline Gray."

He fetched the map and the ink, and set them out on the table in front of him, and I dragged my chair closer so that we could puzzle out the last clue. "The last one be Greek," he said, "Father of the sun, father of the moon."

I remember letting my head fall back in my chair as I concentrated, trying to piece it together. I have to admit that after dealing with the style of the five other stanzas, it really didn't take much to figure out the answer.

In Greek mythology the sun was Apollo, and the moon was Artemis, and the father of each of them was Zeus.

Barbossa must have seen the slight smile that crossed my lips at that point, and he spoke eagerly. "Do ye have it?"

I nodded.

"Well, what is it?" he asked, quill poised to write it down.

I shrugged innocently, deciding that it was finally my turn to torment him.

"Do ye know it or not, woman?" he asked, getting a little impatient.

"Oh, I know it, sure as we're sitting here," I said. "I'm just thinking that I might hold onto that information as a bit of insurance."

I think the look he gave me was actually more hurt than angry, and he got out of his chair and went to stand by the windows again. "If yer makin' a game of this, that be all well and good, but if you mean to say that ye really don't trust me to keep my part of our bargain..."

Of course I'd been making a game of it, and I never suspected that I might offend him so much with what I'd said. I got up and went to stand next to him, and placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," I said, earning myself a bit of a glower from him where he stood, obviously pouting. "I didn't mean to imply that I didn't trust you. I was just teasing you a little."

"Does that mean ye do trust me?" he asked, looking down at me where I stood next to him.

I nodded, somehow not being able to find my voice at that moment.

"Then give me the name later," he said softly, turning toward me and reaching up to trail his fingers gently along my cheek.

I recall that I thought my heart skipped a beat or maybe two, as I realized not only where things were heading at that moment, but that in fact, I wanted to go where he was taking us.

I also recall feeling my own hand trembling against his arm where it still rested, and closing my eyes as his hand touched my face. In fact, I recall vividly that it wasn't only my hand that was trembling, and that he must have been very aware of that fact.

"Easy, lass," he whispered, and he pulled me against him gently. I found my hands resting against his chest, and discovered that he was tall enough that my head just tucked under his chin as he drew me in close. "You know ye'll come to no harm by my hand, don't ye?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I managed to whisper back, short of breath as I was becoming at that moment.

"Good," he said, and he held me gently for another minute to steady me before he spoke again.

"Madeline?" he said into my hair.

"What?" I asked, feeling my heart racing along faster.

"If this be not what ye truly wish, then ye'd best leave now," he said, with no trace of menace, no hint of threat, just a last chance to make sure I knew I had a choice in the matter.

I pulled back slowly half a step and whispered to him. "Where would be the adventure in that?" I asked, and then I felt myself gasp a little as he pulled me in closer and he placed the fingers of his free hand under my chin. He drew very near, tipping my face up, and I finally let my eyes close and my head fall back a little, wondering what it was going to be like to be kissed by the pirate as he leaned down, intending to press his mouth against mine.

I am sure that it would have been quite some kiss, if it weren't for the fact that a huge impact rocked the ship at that moment, and glass exploded from the windows behind us, interrupting our romantic encounter.

Instead, I found myself screaming and tackled ungracefully to the floor as Barbossa dragged us both out of the way of the imploding windows.

"Merda!" he cried out. "What the bloody hell?" He looked back at where I was pinned under him on the floor. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I gasped, just as the door to his cabin flung open and Turk rushed in.

"Navy ship off our starboard quarter, Cap'n! The bitch came out of nowhere, and she's gaining on us fast!"

"Fuckin' bloody hell!" Barbossa screamed with outrage, scrambling to his feet. "Get all hands on deck!" he yelled, reaching down to grab me by the arm and yank me to my feet, probably a little more roughly than he intended.

He whirled on me. "You stay in here!" he cried, and he grabbed up his sword and ran out the door with Turk, leaving me standing in a pile of broken glass, and feeling almost as fragile.

I could hear the distinct sounds of the cannon fire from the ship that was pursuing us at that point, and not really feeling that I was going to be all that much safer in the cabin after being in there when half the windows had been blown out, I picked my way through the glass and ran out on deck to see what was happening.

The crew was rushing about as Barbossa stood near the helm, shouting orders across the deck. "I need more canvas and I need it yesterday, Master Harlow! Master Turk, make ready the guns, starboard side!" Turk ran below, leading a group of pirates to haul out the cannons.

Barbossa shouted orders at Hoskins, who was at the wheel. "Hard to starboard, Master Hoskins! Now!"

"Cap'n, we'll present more of a target if we give her our starboard profile!" Hoskins argued.

"Aye, but she be after our rudder!" Barbossa cried, shoving Hoskins out of the way and turning us hard to starboard.

I nearly fell as the ship came around, and more canvas dropped simultaneously, causing us to jump forward a little at the same time that we turned. Another cannonball struck our stern, blowing out more of the windows in the cabin, but still missing our rudder, thanks to the quick maneuvering by Barbossa.

Thunder roared from below my feet as Turk's group let the first volley from the cannons on the starboard side fly at the navy ship, and I could hear the damage caused by several impacts, even at that distance.

I was anticipating that the next round would follow from our pursuers, but at that moment Barbossa spotted me on deck and yelled in my direction.

"May, get yer arse below!" he cried. Trying to concentrate on escaping from the navy ship, and seeing that I wasn't inclined to follow his order, he spotted Bellamy, who was jumping down from the rigging, and yelled to him.

"Master Bellamy!" he called across the deck. "Take the doctor below, and lock her in her cabin!" Bellamy hesitated for a single second, and then darted my way as Barbossa bellowed at him again. "Now!"

"Come on, May!" he cried, gabbing me by the arm and dragging me to the companionway. Large chunks of wood exploded behind us as a section of railing near where I'd been standing disintegrated, and I hit the deck with Bellamy next to me, as wood shards showered all around us.

The last few sails dropped open, causing us to fall together again as we tried to get up, and the ship lurched forward again, catching more wind. We finally made it to our feet and to the companionway stairs, just as Barbossa swung the ship back hard to port, trying to present a moving target to the navy ship, while buying us a minute or two to gain some speed.

The last thing I saw before Bellamy dragged me down the stairs was Barbossa standing his ground as we were hit again, and a yard torn from the mizzenmast slammed into the deck only a few feet from where he stood at the wheel.

"Michael," I pleaded as he started to yank my cabin door shut, "don't lock me in! I don't want to be down here not knowing..."

"Sorry, May, the captain's right," he said apologetically. "You're safer down here."

He shut the door and locked it from the outside, and I pounded on the door in frustration, not wanting to be stuck in there wondering about what fate might befall the _Rogue_, and indeed, myself. I also didn't want to be stuck in that cabin being completely useless to anyone that might be injured on board, and I suddenly realized how worried I was about some of the pirates, and especially Barbossa.

I sat down on my cot and cried in frustration and fear, trying to discern what was happening topside by what I could hear and the movements of the ship. It felt like I was there forever before the sounds of the battle seemed to fade. When it had been several minutes since I heard the last cannon fire from either side, I realized that we must have outrun the naval ship, or were at least attempting to do so and had managed to get out of range of her guns.

I pounded on the door, yelling for someone to let me out, but my efforts were in vain as no one came to release me from my prison until well after dawn.

Turk stood on the other side of the door when it opened. "We've lost them for now," he said, answering the question I had before I could ask it.

"Is everyone alright?" I asked, stepping through the door.

"_Everyone_ is fine, May," Turk said, giving me a smile that said he knew what I had really been asking. "He's friggin' pissed as hell at the crew lettin' a navy ship sneak up on us like that, and in a right state about the damage to his precious _Rogue_, but once he bashes a few heads and chucks their balls to the sharks, he'll be fine," Turk said jovially.

I trotted up the stairs next to him, anxious to get topside as he spoke again. "'Course seein' the fact that yer unharmed'll probably do him some good as well," Turk said slyly, smiling again as he saw me blush.

"Don't think I don't know what's been going on," Turk added softly as we neared the top stair.

"Nothing's been going on," I said, still a bit red.

"That's a load of shit and you know it," he said, taking me by the arm and halting us on the top stair. "Look at yeh. I already told you he's fine, yet I can barely keep up with yeh on these stairs because yeh can't help but want to see fer yerself."

I said nothing, knowing I couldn't defend myself as I felt my face get warm yet again, and Turk laughed at me.

--

**A/N:** Just a head's up that I'll be away from the 23rd until the 1st without access to my computer. Conference in Kansas City, and then a few days vacation in Bar Harbor. I'll do my best to post a chapter in between, but I may not be able to. I promise if I don't I'll post the next one the second I get home. So, if I don't answer reviews and PM's as quickly as I normally do, you'll know I'm not ignoring you guys!

While I'm gone, stop by my profile page and vote on the poll. The question won't surprise any of you, I'm sure, but I thought the results would be fun to have by the end of the story!

Cheers, gang!

Nytd


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **You guys are all fantastic! The outpouring of enthusiastic reviews of the _almost-kiss_ chapter was great! Thanks for making this so much fun! Sorry if things get a little messy from this point on, but no one ever said falling for a pirate was going to mean smooth sailing! ;)

--

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_"Look at yeh. I already told you he's fine, yet I can barely keep up with yeh on these stairs because yeh can't help but want to see fer yerself."_

_I said nothing, knowing I couldn't defend myself as I felt my face get warm yet again, and Turk laughed at me._

**--**

Turk was right, of course, even though I hadn't admitted that to him on the stairs. When I crossed the deck and caught sight of Barbossa's plumed hat across the tops of the crew's heads where they were gathered, I said a little prayer.

While my first thought was to give thanks for the fact that he was safe, what I actually asked for was help as I realized how much it mattered to me that he was unharmed.

I made it to stand near the crew, and as I did so I paid attention to what Barbossa was saying as he paced back and forth, nearly apoplectic with rage. It would be unseemly of me to repeat anything that he uttered that morning, but suffice it to say that no crew anywhere had ever had their collective arse chewed out in a more colorful or intimidating way.

When he had finished his tirade, which was probably justified given the fact that there was no excuse for why we'd been ambushed, and also taken so much damage, the crew scattered instantly, as none of them wanted to be in his way or fall under his gaze at that moment.

Unfortunately, despite the fact that I had come to make sure he was all right, I fell in the line of fire while his anger was still in full swing. He quickly closed the gap between us and I could tell I was in trouble even before his fingers closed roughly on my arm.

"Do we not have an agreement?" he snarled, digging his fingers into my flesh.

"Yes, of course..." I answered, a bit unsteadily.

"And was part of our agreement that ye'd follow any order that I gave you to the letter?" he demanded.

"Yes," I said, flinching as he tightened his grip another notch.

His gaze was fierce at that moment. "Then ye should've directly gone below! The next time ye fail to follow a direct order that I give you right sharply," he growled, "I will handle you as I would any _man_ who disobeyed me aboard my ship, and ye'll find yerself with six lashes across that lovely back of yours, woman or not!" He flung my arm away from him and stormed past me and past Turk who had been standing behind me, witness to what had just happened.

I stood there unmoving, trying to make sense of what had just happened, fighting back tears as Turk put his hand on my shoulder.

"You all right, darlin'?" he asked, sounding like he was getting angry, and not with me.

I nodded, unable to trust my voice not to betray the fact that I was losing the battle with the tears.

--

I was miserable for the rest of the day, knowing that I was leaving the ship for good, probably that afternoon, as soon as we came close enough to Montego, which I knew was not far off. It would have been awful for me to consider that might be our last conversation, especially after what had almost happened just the night before.

Deciding that I was going to at least make the attempt at a civil conversation with Barbossa before I left, I headed for his cabin, determining that I would present him with the final name of Zeus for his riddle.

I never managed to knock on the door, as I became aware of voices that carried beyond the interior of the cabin. They belonged to Barbossa and to Turk, and I could tell that both of them were angry. I started to turn away until I heard the next remark made by Turk.

"Yeh can't do that to her, Hector!" he said, obviously speaking about me, as I was the only 'her' aboard the ship.

"I'm not doin' it _to_ her, but _for_ her safety," Barbossa had spat back, also quite irritated, "and I'd appreciate if ye'd not question yer captain's judgment on the matter."

"I'm not speakin' to my captain on the matter," Turk said loudly, "I'm speakin' to you, Hector, and I say yeh be out of line. I've never known you to go back on a bargain, once struck, and she'd be the last person yeh ought to renege on a deal with."

"Don't ye dare lecture me about her, Turk! Do ye think I don't know how this'll affect her?" Barbossa demanded. "Don't you think I care?"

"I think yeh care about what you want and not what she wants, Hector. Yer bein' selfish, and yeh know it," Turk said firmly.

"Selfish? Is that what ye think me to be?" Barbossa demanded, now furious with Turk. "I decide to keep her safe by not lettin' her go ashore, and ye call me selfish?"

I know that they exchanged a few more angry words, but I never heard them as I realized that they were discussing the fact that I was not getting off the ship any time soon. I burst into tears, and ran for all I was worth, shutting myself in my cabin for nearly all of the next two days.

What I didn't know at the time, but know now, is that Turk had flung the cabin door open in time to see me flee the deck, and realized that I had overheard at least part of what he'd discussed with Barbossa. Both of them had decided that I should have some time to myself before I was confronted with the fact that we had long sailed beyond Montego and why.

Very late two nights later, unable to sleep and restless from anxiety over the mess that had come out of the encounter with the naval ship, I left my cabin and went on deck to get some air. I stood by the port railing, staring at nothing in the darkness, yet knowing that somewhere out in the blackness the coast of Jamaica was fading steadily into the distance.

There were few crew on deck- only the handful of the watch that had just come on duty, and what I didn't know was that Bellamy had just left the previous watch and was walking across the deck to where I stood.

"May," he said quietly, trying not to startle me. I jumped a little anyway since I had been lost in my thoughts when he approached. "Sorry," he said, placing a steadying hand on my wrist, "I didn't mean to surprise you."

I smiled weakly at him. "It's alright, Michael," I said, and then returned to gazing at the dark water that rushed past us below.

"Look, May," he began, "about the other day…I'm sorry I locked you up."

"You were just following a direct order," I said a little bitterly. "I don't hold you to blame."

"Yeah, well it may have been an order, but it really was the safest place for you to be," he said quietly. "I would hate if anything had happened to you during the battle."

Neither of us said anything for a few moments, and then he came a step closer and rested a hand on my shoulder. "You ok?" he asked, seeming concerned. "I know how disappointed you must be to not get off the ship...like he promised you."

I nodded, unable to say anything as the pain from my disappointment was still acute, and feeling like I was going to cry again in front of Bellamy as he stood there trying to comfort me.

"It's not right," he said softly, making sure that I was the only one who would hear him. "It's not what you deserve, May."

"Michael," I whispered, wishing he'd stop sympathizing with me as it was bringing me closer to tears.

"It'll be alright, May," he went on. "Somehow we'll get you off this bloody pirate ship," he said, leaning closer, trying to get me to look at him. He could tell that I was crying then, even in the dim lighting, and he put his other hand on my other shoulder, turning me to face him.

"Don't," he said. "It'll be fine, I promise. Really. Please don't cry. It pains me to see you so upset."

He drew me in at that moment and held me close, and I have to confess that as distraught as I'd been for the past few days, his embrace was the only comfort I'd known. We each said nothing as we stood together for a few long minutes, and finally becoming aware of how long I'd stood in there in his arms, and knowing that we were not entirely alone on deck, I gently disengaged myself and stood back a step.

"Thank you for looking after me, Michael," I said quietly, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with the way he was looking at me. "It's late," I added, trying to point out that I was tired, and that he had just come off duty and probably needed sleep as well.

He looked like he was going to say something else, and then thought better of it and stepped away from me. "Goodnight, May," he said, and he walked away, leaving me alone once more.

--

If I thought things were difficult on board the _Rogue Wave_ at that point, I had no idea how quickly things were going to go from bad to worse that next morning.

Still upset after I'd managed to get only a small amount of fitful sleep, I managed to drop the small mirror I had in my cabin, and then cut my hand on one of the broken pieces as I cleaned them up. It wasn't a large cut, but it was deep, and it continued to bleed a fair amount, despite the fact that I kept pressure steadily on it.

Irritated that I had been so clumsy, and deciding that I needed to get some bandage material, I went to the part of the ship's hold where I had organized the medical supplies to get some gauze. What I found was that things were in a state of disarray after the chase by the navy ship, and after I quickly bandaged my hand, I set about trying to clean up and re-organize anything that I could salvage.

What I didn't know was that at that moment, Barbossa and Turk were on their way below with the ship's carpenter and Harlow, coming down to inspect some of the damage to the hull that was being repaired after the fight.

"May?"

I looked up from what I was doing as I saw Bellamy heading towards me, looking somewhat determined.

"There you are," he said, coming to stand next to me. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Why, is something wrong, Michael?" I asked, concerned.

"No," he said quietly, "I wanted to talk to you."

Looking back on things now, I know that I should have seen the warning signs, but naïve as I was about what was going on around me, I didn't pick up on Bellamy's body language until it was too late.

"What about?" I asked, looking up at him after I set the last box of bandages back in place.

He stepped even closer to me, and had it not been Bellamy, I would have felt trapped between him and the small space I stood in. "Last night," he said softly, reaching out to take me by the arm.

I was puzzled for about three seconds, and then as he drew me in I realized what was going on, or at least what Bellamy thought was going on. "There are some things I should have said to you, May, but I'm afraid I've lacked the courage."

"Michael," I started to protest, even as he leaned closer. His fingers against my lips silenced me momentarily.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you, May," he said, and I felt a twinge of emotion as he echoed another intimate conversation of that nature that I'd had not so long before. I think he sensed that I was feeling something more intense at that moment, and misread the signals I hadn't intended to send.

I realized he was going to kiss me about two seconds before he did. "Michael, don't," I started to say, gently so I wouldn't hurt his feelings. He didn't understand the true nature of my reluctance, and sliding his hand up under my hair, held me firmly as he pressed his lips against mine in a very tender kiss.

It was the worst possible time for the inspection party to arrive where we were standing, and Bellamy abruptly released me as the captain spoke dangerously from over his shoulder.

"I believe the lady said _no_, Master Bellamy," he growled, "did she not?"

Poor Michael was trapped and he met Barbossa's stare with anger and disbelief, already knowing where things were headed, which apparently I didn't. "Aye, sir," he answered flatly.

Barbossa stepped away from where Harlow, Turk and the carpenter were all looking quite grave, and stood before Bellamy, snarling softly in his face. "Did I not make meself clear, when I gave the order that no member of my crew would lay a hand in an unwanted manner on this woman?"

Bellamy, to his credit, wouldn't flinch from Barbossa's stare. "Aye, sir. Perfectly clear," he answered.

I knew then what was happening and I tried to reason with Barbossa. "Captain," I protested, "it's not what it looks like. It was just a misunderstanding..." I took a step back involuntarily as I met the fury in Barbossa's stare.

"Are ye sayin' that you wanted him to kiss you?" he sneered at me.

There was nothing I could do but be honest, knowing that whatever answer I gave, Bellamy was damned. "No," I said quietly, and looked away from that steel blue stare.

"I see," he said coldly, and then turned to Harlow. "Bring 'im on deck," he snarled, meaning Michael, and Harlow and the carpenter escorted the defeated Bellamy away from us and out of the hold.

"What's going to happen to him?" I asked, wracked with guilt.

Barbossa had started to walk away, and spoke over his shoulder. "Ye've already been informed of the punishment for disobeying a direct order, have ye not, Miss Gray?"

I knew it was to be six lashes for poor Bellamy, and I tried once more to intervene. "Captain," I pleaded, " he doesn't deserve it. It was all just a misunderstanding. Surely you can..."

"No," he snapped, cutting me off, "I can't. Misunderstandin' or not, Master Bellamy has left me no choice."

Suddenly I was angry, thinking him to be hiding behind an excuse, when it was really about him not liking the idea of Bellamy getting that close to me. "You're just being petty about this!" I cried.

Barbossa snorted. "Well, then, I guess that makes me petty _and_ selfish," he sneered, shooting a look at Turk as he stalked out of the hold.

I stood there and looked pleadingly at Turk. "There must be..." I stopped when I saw him shake his head.

"Like it or not, darlin', Barbossa is right," he said. "Bellamy knows it, and you should come to grips with it too."

"How can you say that?" I asked, still horrified at what had happened.

Turk came closer and put his hand on my shoulder, trying to convey that he sympathized with my feelings. "There isn't one of us down here, you, me, Barbossa, or Harlow, that thinks Bellamy would ever do anything to harm you, May."

"Of course he wouldn't, so why punish him?" I asked.

"Barbossa needs to set an example fer the crew. Bellamy disobeyed a direct order, and the captain can't let that slide if he's to maintain the respect of the men," Turk tried to explain. He could see that what he was saying was just upsetting me more.

"May, let me put it to yeh this way," Turk said softly, still wanting me to understand why things were the way they were. "How would yeh expect Barbossa to handle things if yeh'd been stuck in there with a bloke like Stoker, and he went about claimin' that it was all just a misunderstandin'?"

Turk's explanation made me shudder, even as it clarified why Bellamy had to be punished. "I feel like this is all my fault," I said, hearing how tired and defeated my own voice sounded.

"Nay, it's not yer fault at all, luv. Even yer friend Bellamy knows that," Turk said kindly, watching me to make sure I was all right. "Can I ask yeh somethin'?" he inquired after a moment.

I nodded.

"Tell me straight away if it's none of my business," Turk said," but were yeh tellin' the truth when yeh said yeh didn't really want Bellamy to kiss yeh?"

"Yes," I said, still feeling guilty.

"Well, then, Bellamy can say a prayer of thanks fer that honest streak yeh have, May," Turk replied, starting to walk away.

"Why is that?" I asked.

Turk looked back over his shoulder. "I hate to think what Barbossa might've done to him if yeh'd said yes." The smile that normally accompanied such a comment from Turk was absent this time, and he left me to follow along reluctantly to where the crew was being gathered on deck.

Feeling like I was going to be ill, I stayed close to Turk as we joined the crew. Word had spread quickly about what had happened, and I watched, horrified as Harlow and Hoskins led Bellamy, unresisting, to stand before the mast. Bellamy shrugged them off at that point and yanked his own shirt off over his head, tossing it on the deck angrily.

He allowed them, again without resistance, to tie his hand up in front of him so that he wouldn't be able to move or fall when he was struck. I saw him set his jaw, and hold his head up, staring straight ahead. I couldn't believe how bravely he was facing his punishment, and although I wanted to be anywhere else at that moment, I found my own small bit of courage, and stayed to bear witness.

--

**A/N: **At the beginning of several of the last few chapters, I have posted the last couple of lines from the previous chapter to try to keep continuity for readers since it's usually 6 or 7 days between chapters. Let me know if this is helpful or distracting. :)


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Thank you all again so much for all the thoughtful and fun reviews! It was lovely to have such an enthusiastic response from all of you waiting in my mailbox when I got back from Maine! :D

I warn you all, things aboard the _Rogue Wave_ become quite a mess this chapter!

--

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

--

_"Tell me straight away if it's none of my business," Turk said," but were yeh tellin' the truth when yeh said yeh didn't really want Bellamy to kiss yeh?"_

"_Yes," I said, still feeling guilty._

"_Well, then, Bellamy can say a prayer of thanks fer that honest streak yeh have, May," Turk replied, starting to walk away._

"_Why is that?" I asked._

_Turk looked back over his shoulder. "I hate to think what Barbossa might've done to him if yeh'd said yes." The smile that normally accompanied such a comment from Turk was absent this time, and he left me to follow along reluctantly to where the crew was being gathered on deck._

_Feeling like I was going to be ill, I stayed close to Turk as we joined the crew on deck. Word had spread quickly about what had happened, and I watched, horrified as Harlow and Hoskins led Bellamy, unresisting, to stand before the mast. Bellamy shrugged them off at that point and yanked his own shirt off over his head, tossing it on the deck angrily._

_He allowed them, again without resistance, to tie his hand up in front of him so that he wouldn't be able to move or fall when he was struck. I saw him set his jaw, and hold his head up, staring straight ahead. I couldn't believe how bravely he was facing his punishment, and although I wanted to be anywhere else at that moment, I found my own small bit of courage, and stayed to bear witness..._

--

The thing that made the prospect of watching poor Bellamy being punished even worse than it already seemed was the fact that it would be the bo'sun's mate who handled the flogging, and the bo'sun's mate on the _Rogue, _as I have previously mentioned, was Stoker.

A bit of a loner with a legendary temper, the pirate was a fearsome fighter and uncanny gunner, which kept him a spot on the crew. I'd intentionally had little to do with Stoker while I'd been on board, and each encounter I'd had with him had been unpleasant.

Stoker came forward at that point, making a great show of untangling the lash.

Harlow, as first mate, had been given the task of formally announcing Bellamy's crime, and the punishment to be handed out, and was in the middle of doing so when Barbossa came and stood next to me. He didn't so much as glance in my direction, and he folded his arms across his chest, looking grim as he witnessed what was taking place.

When Harlow finished and stepped aside, I recall that Stoker looked a little too eager to carry out his assignment, and that I still thought I was going to be ill. When he drew back for the first blow, I grabbed onto Turk's arm, where he was standing next to me, and hung onto him fiercely.

I gasped out loud when the first stroke fell, digging my nails into Turk's arm. Bellamy cried out and arched his back involuntarily as the leather cord tore into his skin. It was horrible to watch as the scene was repeated again, and a third time, each backlash flinging more of Bellamy's blood across the deck as Stoker drew back for the next blow.

By the fourth stroke, Bellamy had managed to grit his teeth, and bore each of the remaining blows with a loud gasp, no longer crying out when he was struck.

When Harlow and Hoskins stepped forward to release his arms, he staggered and dropped to one knee on the deck, and I started forward to go to him. I only got one step away before I was dragged backward by Barbossa's strong grip on my shoulder. "Leave 'im," he ordered quietly.

Furious that he wouldn't even let me help Bellamy after he was injured, I whirled on him, yanking away from his hand. I glared at him, meeting his eyes with all the fury I could muster. "You _are_ a monster," I spat at him in an angry whisper, "and I'm sorry that I was ever foolish enough to think I could trust you!" I glared at him a second longer, and then turned and walked angrily away.

Like so many other things that I understood better at a later date than at the actual point in time at which they were happening, Barbossa's reason for keeping me from running to Bellamy was not as selfish nor as petty as I had thought. Having a certain amount of respect for the way that Bellamy had handled himself through the ordeal in the hold and the whipping, Barbossa had thought it best that Bellamy be allowed to get to his feet on his own and leave the deck under his own power.

I didn't understand at that moment that Barbossa was actually doing Bellamy a favor, as it would be better in the eyes of the crew if a woman didn't run to the injured man's aid in front of them.

What I also didn't understand that day, was the reason that Barbossa had opted not to let me off the ship as we had agreed three weeks prior. Thinking him to be cruel, and perhaps not wanting to let me go because of selfish reasons, I assumed that he wanted me to remain on board for the possibility of financial gain, as he still had plenty of other parts of the map that he was probably going to need translated.

After our romantic close call, I was also worried that Barbossa would assume that he was at liberty to pursue a more physical means of interaction with me, since it had been quite obvious to both of us in the moment before we were struck by the cannonball, that I had been quite inclined to acquiesce to what he was requesting.

Although I daresay that both of those reasons may have factored into the pirate's decision to a small degree, the encounter with the navy ship was the real reason that the captain had decided that the village near Montego was no longer a suitable port.

Even though the _Rogue Wave_ had outrun the HMS _Valiant_ for the moment, Barbossa had a suspicion that she hadn't given up the possibility of capturing or sinking the _Rogue_ so easily, and worried that if he took even a short amount of time to try to get me to shore, we would find ourselves trapped between the navy ship and the fort at Montego Bay.

He knew he couldn't jeopardize his ship and crew for the sake of putting me ashore sooner rather than later. He also had seen the railing explode behind me during the battle, just a couple of seconds after I had been standing in that very spot, and concerned for my safety, found himself loathe to put me in any more danger than was already inherent in being on a pirate ship.

I was busy being angry at him for reneging on our bargain, and still blaming him to some degree for what had happened to Bellamy, and the confusion I had over my conflicting feelings toward Barbossa was causing me no small degree of distress.

I knew that I couldn't deny, despite the fact that I was currently furious with him, that I had developed feelings for the man that were beyond my ability to understand. The attraction I felt was a complete mystery to me, yet there was no doubt whatsoever that I felt it.

For the previous three weeks, my perspective about what was normal and what was not on a day to day basis had changed considerably, as it well needed to if I had been going to survive life on a pirate ship. It was no longer unfathomable to spend time decoding treasure maps, or dine with Pirate Lords, or witness someone walking the plank.

Had anyone had ever told me, perhaps as short a time as a month prior, that I would be kidnapped by a fearsome pirate during my ocean voyage, I might have thought them a bit of an alarmist, and thought nothing more of it. But if someone had ever suggested that I would start to develop romantic inclinations toward that pirate, I probably would have suggested that there were strong medications with which I might treat their delusional disorder.

In the same light, if anyone had explained to me that I might develop more intense feelings for Michael Bellamy, I could have acknowledged the slight possibility. Dark and handsome with that amazing singing voice, Bellamy was as pleasant and thoughtful a person as one might hope to encounter on a pirate ship, or for that matter, on any ship.

If anyone had, however, tried to tell me that I would begin to find myself drawn helplessly to the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, again I would have offered to have them committed to a particularly well-run asylum that I know of.

Arrogant peacock that Barbossa could be, the weathered and scarred pirate was hard and harsh as any man I had ever met. On the other hand, he was crafty and smart, and possessed generous measures of self-assuredness and charisma that he used to his best advantage, especially, I had discovered firsthand, when dealing with women.

After spending so much time interacting with him in several different capacities, I was beginning to believe exactly what he'd said to me in the very beginning –there was a lot more to the man than met the eye, and I had the distinct impression that I'd just begun to scratch the surface.

If anyone might find fault with the logic that I might have fallen for Barbossa, I would submit for their consideration the fact that not only had he saved my life by keeping me from walking the plank, but he had defended me also from scorpions, and brawling pirates, and the nagging doubt I occasionally expressed about my ability to succeed in the world of medicine alongside men.

Add in the fact that the pirate had kept up constant wicked flirtation with me since the night I first had dinner with him, and had been escalating the sexual tension between us from not long after, I think one might rapidly understand my dilemma, and discover that logic had absolutely naught to do with it.

The question I faced was what was I supposed to do about it? I could have given a hundred reasons why I should have tried to ignore what I was feeling and concentrate on getting as far away from the _Rogue Wave_ as I possibly could. The specifics of those reasons I need not go into, because they all led to the same conclusion – falling in love with Hector Barbossa was a bad idea, and any way I looked at it, it was inevitable that I was going to end up hurt...or worse.

While I would be able to unravel a lot of what I had been feeling as time progressed, at the moment that I had left the deck after Bellamy's flogging, I wasn't privy to some of the information that I now have, and my feelings were definitely not clear.

I was feeling alone and disconsolate after being berated by the captain the day before, and was blaming myself for what Bellamy had been through. I hadn't meant to encourage anything between Michael and myself, but that didn't mean I didn't care about him. He'd been nothing but kind to me from the first day I'd been brought aboard the ship, and I felt that I had repaid him in an unkind manner.

Deciding after an hour or so that I didn't care what Barbossa had said, I decided to go and find Bellamy and see to his wounds. It took me a while to find him, and when I did, he looked up from where he was sitting on top of one of the _Rogue's _guns, shirt still off and crumpled in his hand. He gave me a cheerless glance as I approached, and said nothing.

"Michael," I said softly, "would it be alright if I took a look a those?"

He shrugged, and gave me a tired, hurt expression, still not saying anything.

I walked around to the far side of the cannon he sat on, and tried to evaluate his injuries. They looked awful. Angry, red and deep, they were covered in dried, crusted blood that had spread across his back.

"Michael, we need to get these cleaned up. Will you come with me so that I can treat them?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure why you'd want to bother," he said tiredly, "but alright." He got up slowly and stiffly, and walked along beside me as we spoke.

"I want to help because I care about you," I said, "and I don't want these to fester. You'll be worse off than you are now, and I couldn't bear that."

He looked at me questioningly. "You couldn't?"

"No, I couldn't. I feel awful enough about what happened...you didn't deserve what they did to you," I said, a trace of anger in my voice. "And I blame myself for the misunderstanding."

"You mustn't blame yourself, May. It was my own stupidity that got me into trouble," Bellamy said, waiting while I opened my cabin door. I made him wait inside for me while I gathered up some supplies that I wanted, and a basin of water and took them back to the cabin.

"Well, I still feel responsible," I said when I returned, and set everything down on one of the trunks of clothes. "I wish there was something I could do to make it so you weren't hurt." I made him sit on the edge of my cot and I sat next to him and reached for a damp cloth with which to clean off the dried blood.

"Do you mean physically hurt?" he asked, now giving me a baleful look over his shoulder. He sucked air in through his teeth suddenly as I started to wipe at the first traces of blood and the water stung his wounds.

"Michael," I said softly, pausing in what I was doing. "I wish that I could undo any hurt that you were feeling," I said as I continued to tend to his wounds. " I never meant to..." I stopped, unable to finish what I was saying as I felt myself choking up.

Bellamy turned back a little to look at me. "May, I know that."

I was getting more emotional after all that I'd been through, and I was feeling terribly guilty about all that he'd been through. "It's not that I don't care about you, Michael," I said, finally feeling tears start to trail down my face.

"Aye. I know that too," he said, shifting around a bit stiffly so that he faced me. "I wish that things weren't so difficult for you, May. I've already said as much."

"Me? What about you? You've had a rougher time of things than I have," I said, getting more upset. "I've never seen anything so brutal."

"May," he said, touching my arm lightly. "You haven't spent enough time on a pirate ship to know that I could have been much worse off. Barbossa did what he had to do. I'm not saying that I wouldn't have skipped it if I could, but..."

"Barbossa is a monster," I said, feeling ill toward the man at that moment, and not understanding the full reasons as to why at that point.

"Aye, at times, but he's done worse to you than he's done to me. At least my punishment is done and over with," he said gently.

I couldn't reply as his comment caused me to unravel a little further as I felt frustrated and helpless and alone at that point. I fought not to sob out loud as the tears redoubled their numbers.

"Ah, May, you're breaking my heart," Bellamy said with a sigh, and he gingerly shifted his seat closer to me. "Come here," he ordered me softly, and held out his arms as I collapsed against him once again. I remember how gently he held me, and how softly he stroked my hair, trying to calm me and put an end to my tears.

Little by little, I felt myself begin to calm down, and discovered that I didn't feel so despondent while Bellamy was with me. I think Michael was feeling the same thing as we huddled together in my little closet of a cabin.

After a few minutes had gone by, and I had wiped away the last tears, I sat back a little to look at him gratefully, and I wasn't quite prepared to find him looking at me the way he was. "Are you alright?" he asked, loosening his embrace but not letting completely go, and watching me with something quite intense in his eyes.

I wasn't sure if I was, or if I would be. "I don't know," I said honestly.

"May," he said in a hushed voice, "I'd take another half dozen lashes if I could make your hurt go away."

I wasn't at all prepared for how his declaration would affect me, and I became acutely aware of his arms around me, holding me against him as he sat there still shirtless from my examination of his injuries. I had to admit that the way he was looking at me was disarming, especially in light of how nice it was to not feel so completely alone on that ship.

I knew from my previous experience that had led to our difficulty that Bellamy was about to kiss me, but I found I was unable to protest before he did so, very tenderly once, and then again when he found me responding. He stopped after a minute and leaned his forehead against mine, while we both sat there a bit breathless.

"May," he finally whispered, "If you say no, then I'll not be foolish enough to continue. I mean not to offend you."

"You're not offending me," I said quietly, meeting his gaze again steadily, realizing that I really didn't want him to let go of me.

He began kissing me again gently, and I remember the moment when the spark he had started flared into something much warmer, and I found myself with my arms around his neck, engaged in a more passionate embrace. Had I been rational at the time, I would have known that the path we were following could lead to no good, but rational is the last thing I probably could be called at that moment.

I know now that Michael knew that as well, but like me, had been feeling betrayed and lost after his ordeal, and confused about his feelings towards me, decided to throw caution to the wind.

I guess that I picked a bad time to follow Turk's advice about living more for the day than waiting for tomorrow, but I was desperate for some way to feel less alone on that pirate ship, and my embrace with Bellamy seemed to be what I needed at the time.

Confused emotions notwithstanding, the fact that Bellamy was handsome (I think I have already mentioned that I had observed him to be in fine physical condition) and looking at me the way he was didn't hurt to throw fuel on the fire, and it wasn't long before he was very carefully laying me back on my bed.

I remember that I had one final lucid moment when I'd accidentally placed a hand on his back and he flinched from where he'd been kissing my neck in a deliciously distracting way. I started to pull away a little. "Michael," I breathed between kisses, "your back..."

He kissed me in a way that almost me forget about my concern and whispered in my ear. "I'll manage," he said, one hand gently undoing the laces on the front of my dress.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Thanks to Jolene and JS for the reviews! I love Josh Groban also!

You guys are all the best! Bellamy certainly stirred things up, and you all sent the best bunch of fun reviews! Thanks for making this so much fun!

I warned you all that last chapter would be messy. This one is worse. The question for you all is...do ye trust me? ;)

--

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

--

_I guess that I picked a bad time to follow Turk's advice about living more for the day than waiting for tomorrow, but I was desperate for some way to feel less alone on that pirate ship, and my embrace with Bellamy seemed to be what I needed at the time._

_Confused emotions notwithstanding, the fact that Bellamy was handsome (I think I have already mentioned that I had observed him to be in fine physical condition) and looking at me the way he was didn't hurt to throw fuel on the fire, and it wasn't long before he was very carefully laying me back on my bed._

_I remember that I had one final lucid moment when I'd accidentally placed a hand on his back and he flinched from where he'd been kissing my neck in a deliciously distracting way. I started to pull away a little. "Michael," I breathed between kisses, "your back..."_

_He kissed me in a way that almost me forget about my concern and whispered in my ear. "I'll manage," he said, one hand gently undoing the laces on the front of my dress._

--

It would be improper of me to go into more detail about my night in Bellamy's arms. Suffice it to say that he made love to me that night, very gently, in part because he was concerned about not frightening me, and in part because he was probably hindered a degree by the wounds on his back.

I think that I had been a little surprised that he would be so amorously inclined with what he had so recently suffered, but sex is a curiously motivating impulse for all men, and pirates in particular, and I think that I have already pointed out on more than one occasion, that as nice as he could be, Bellamy was certainly still a pirate.

I remember that sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I finally drifted off to sleep with Bellamy curled up behind me, sleeping on his side with his arm around me. When I awoke hours later, I realized after a minute or two that I was alone.

I think we both knew it on some level even then, and Bellamy perhaps even better than I did, that our one night together would likely be our only one, and he'd slipped out while I'd been sleeping, trying to preserve what we had shared without the complications of facing each other in the morning.

At first a bit confused as to why he'd left, I found that after I thought about it for a time, that I was grateful to him for making that decision for us. He knew as well as I did that I cared a great deal about him, but that even though I was confused about things at that time - it wasn't really him that I wanted.

The trouble that lay ahead, unbeknownst to me as I got myself dressed that morning, arose from my naiveté once again about dealing with pirates. While I had thought that things had been relatively discreet about my evening with Bellamy, what I didn't take into consideration is that a pirate ship is really not a very large place, and there are very few secrets that remain undiscovered for long aboard one.

By the time I decided to venture topside later that morning, I didn't realize that I was getting sideways looks from some of the crew at first, until the look I got from Turk when I nearly ran into him. He shot me a look that said he was clearly displeased with me and skipped his usual friendly greeting. Still not up to speed about where things stood, I spoke to him before he walked by.

"Is there something wrong, Turk?" I asked, completely unaware that he knew.

"Somethin' wrong? Aye, I'll say there's somethin' wrong," he growled at me softly, keeping his voice down and the conversation just between us. "Yeh've gone and made a fine bloody mess of things, now haven't yeh?"

It took me a minute to catch on. "What are you talking about?" I suddenly knew, and I realized that if Turk was aware of what had transpired the previous night, that he was not likely the only one. I vividly recall the sinking feeling I had when the extent of the problem became clear to me.

"I have to say that I'm right disappointed in yeh, darlin'," Turk continued, "I hadn't thought yeh to be the type."

"What type?" I asked, getting defensive.

"The type to stoop to throwin' something like that in his face," he said a bit angrily, obviously speaking about Barbossa.

It dawned on me then what he was saying. Knowing that I'd been furious with Barbossa for not letting me off the ship, and how he'd had Bellamy flogged, Turk evidently thought that I'd slept with Bellamy to spite the man.

"Is that what you think of me?" I demanded.

"Aye, and I'd not be the only one," Turk replied steadily.

"Well, then the lot of you can go to hell!" I said, surprising even myself. "I'm sick and tired of concerning myself with pirates and what they think. It's not like they concern themselves with what I think!"

"That's where yeh'd be completely wrong," Turk replied.

That was the moment when the ship came about, and I realized that mine was not the only drama unfolding on the deck.

Evidently, sometime during the night, a ship that appeared to possibly be the _Valiant_ had caught up to us, and Barbossa had sailed the _Rogue _beyond a nearby point of land, hoping to hide us as the ship passed, or at least have the element of surprise if we needed to engage her. It would also leave us the possibility of fleeing around the far side of the nearby island if we should be outmatched.

The crew was crowding onto the deck, anxious to see what would happen if the other ship rounded the point of land or not.

That was the moment when Barbossa strode out onto the deck, ready to order his crew either into combat or to flee, depending on the circumstances that followed. He walked straightaway to Turk, intent on giving the bo'sun his first orders, and then he caught sight of me standing nearby while we'd been exchanging heated words.

I believe that I have already mentioned several occasions when I have noted that I was thankful not to be on the receiving end of Barbossa's wrath, and unfortunately for me, that morning was my turn. The look he met me with was terrifying, and I found myself involuntarily taking a step back while he was still several paces away.

He said nothing to me, but stared at me with cold fury, and after I looked away first, he spoke in a low deadly voice to Turk. "There may be action on deck, Master Turk, and I want no interference this mornin'." He didn't so much as blink as I looked back at him again. "Take this wench to the brig and make sure she stays there," he snarled quietly.

His words stung me, but I was mostly upset by the fact that I was about to be thrown back in that awful cell. "You can't! We had an agreement," I gasped.

"Our agreement," he continued to snarl, advancing on me menacingly, "was founded on honorable behavior, of which ye are obviously not capable of demonstratin'." He came to stand only inches away and glared down from where he stood over me. "If ye insist on behavin' like a common whore," he said, dropping his voice even more dangerously, "then ye leave me no choice but to treat you as one."

He turned away, not giving me a chance to say anything in reply. I'm not sure that I would have known what to say at that point anyway, as shocked and hurt as I was by what he'd just said to me.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway, for at that moment, the lookout called across the deck that the ship we'd been watching for was, in fact, clearing the point of land ahead of us to sit in profile off our bow. She, like we had, slowed to sit becalmed a ways off, obviously watching us as carefully as we were watching her.

The plan of locking me up below was forgotten for the moment, as even Turk and I followed to see what would happen next. Barbossa went forward, and stood for a long time watching the other ship through his spyglass, before speaking to Turk and Harlow who were standing at the ready.

"She not be the same ship as raked our stern a few days back," he said aloud, but more to himself than anyone else. "I want the crew at the ready, Master Harlow, and I want the guns run out just in case, Master Turk."

"Aye, Cap'n," they each replied, and then jumped to carry out the orders that were given.

I suddenly felt very alone on that ship again, even though I stood not far from Barbossa with another score or so of pirates still on deck, and I had the opportunity to start to work myself into my own temper as I stood there and thought about what he'd just said to me after all that he'd put me through.

As I grew more irate, the ship in the distance showed some sign of activity that Barbossa followed, and a moment later she hoisted her colors. Even I could tell at that distance that it was the French flag.

"She might be a merchant vessel... out of Nassau Port," Barbossa said to himself and whoever else was paying attention nearby as they waited for orders from him. "Aye... she's armed, but not heavily enough to be one of His Majesty's ships," he continued to muse.

He started to smile as he continued to monitor the ship. "Well, mayhap this be a fortuitous encounter fer the _Rogue_ after all," he said, still keeping track of what was taking place ahead of us.

There may be times when doing something incredibly stupid might pay off well in the long run, but there are also plenty of times when doing something incredibly stupid means that you are tired, frustrated and angry beyond all reason, that you are still quite naïve in the ways of pirates, and what you have just done remains simply that...incredibly stupid.

I picked that moment to act upon my anger and do such an idiotic thing, and looking back I am surprised that I am still here to be able to tell my tale.

Furious with Barbossa for, on top of everything else, intending to lock me back in the brig indignantly, as well as calling me a whore, I decided that I was not going to let him take advantage of the French merchant vessel, and set out to warn them the only way I could think how.

No one was paying the least attention to what the woman on board was doing and I quickly and quietly made my way to the mizzenmast. I knew how to go about what I had in mind as Bellamy had once shown me in Tortuga harbor, and working as quickly as I could before one of the pirates might turn away from scrutinizing the French ship, I strung up the black flag and heaved on the ropes for all I was worth.

I had the line neatly tied off before anyone noticed that we had hoisted our colors.

The first sign that something was wrong was that the activity on board the French ship suddenly increased by tenfold, and she began dropping more sail almost immediately.

If I had been standing next to Barbossa at that moment, I would have seen his brow furrow in a puzzled way, and then his eyes narrow as he watched the ship make way as quickly as she could.

He thought the ship was making a run for it, and it only took him another few seconds to try and discover the reason why. Lowering the glass and turning to call orders to Harlow, he caught sight of his own Jolly Roger snapping smartly in the breeze, and he flew into a rage, snarling out loud and heaving the spyglass as far out to sea as he could throw.

I knew that no matter what I did, he would know that the culprit had been me, and I stood my ground defiantly as he swept across the deck in my direction. It wasn't like I had anywhere to run to, anyway.

I braced myself for the verbal onslaught that I knew was coming, and expected that he'd probably even threaten me with outrageous punishment again. What I didn't expect from him as he closed to within a foot or two of where I stood, was the backhanded blow that caught me across the cheek and sent me crashing to the deck.

If I thought that he'd slapped Cornelia hard that night so long ago, I realized I was mistaken as I tasted blood in my mouth and clutched at my jaw, trying to figure out just which way was up. I heard shouting around me, but couldn't make out the first words as my ears were ringing from being struck.

I made half an effort to raise myself off the deck, and that's when I became aware of the fact that Barbossa had drawn his pistol and pointed it at me where I lay. The only thing that stood between me and the gun was Turk, where he'd thrown himself after seeing what had happened as he'd come back on deck.

What I didn't know, but Turk likely did, was that Barbossa had no intention of shooting me at all, but had drawn his weapon in the heat of the moment, intent on scaring the hell out of me for what I'd done. What Barbossa didn't know, but again Turk likely did, was that the captain didn't need the pistol to scare me as he'd already done that when he'd struck me across the face.

The next act of the drama on deck began when the lookout again called down to the captain on deck, finally getting his attention from where he'd been at odds with Turk as they stood over me. What he was trying to let the captain know, was that the French merchant ship, who had set a lot of canvas, had come about and was now plowing along in our direction.

Snarling at me once more in wordless fury, Barbossa turned away to see what the alarm was about. I would say the fact that the French ship was apparently intent on engaging us did not do anything to improve his mood.

I managed to get to my feet with Turk's help, still holding my smarting jaw, and although he couldn't think of anything to say that might help matters, he gave me a sympathetic look.

The lookout's voice floated down again, and it became apparent to everyone on deck at almost the same time, even without a spyglass, that the French ship was striking her colors. Why she would do that if she were intent on attacking, I wasn't sure, but in the next moment the explanation became clear as the flag of the Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea rose to snap smartly above her mast.

It was Chevalle.

Confused as to who we might be and playing things safe, Chevalle had hidden behind the French colors, but when he'd seen Barbossa's flag, knew that we were unlikely to pose a threat, and brought his ship about to bear down on us, actually intending on a meeting. Knowing that the _Rogue_ would have welcomed them with a volley of cannon fire if she didn't identify herself quickly, Chevalle had struck his false French colors, and hoisted his distinct Jolly Roger.

It was the only thing that had gone in any of our favors so far that day. I was curious to see what happened when Chevalle came alongside, and I waited near the railing along with the rest of the crew, but made it a point to keep a fair distance between Barbossa and myself.

A short while later the two ships sat side by side and Chevalle doffed his hat in an elegant greeting to Barbossa. "Bonjour, Hector!" he called across, obviously in fine spirits. "We gave each ozzer a little scare, no?" He laughed lightly.

Barbossa called back across to him. "Bonjour, Andre. What might ye be doin' in these waters? I thought ye to be heading for the Mediterranean shortly?"

"Ah, yes, well we 'ad ze good fortune to chase down a ship zat was worth chasing down," Chevalle said cheerfully. "What can I say?"

Evidently the _Fancy_ had waylaid a fat prize, and had her holds piled with stolen cargo and swag.

I'm not sure that bit of news did anything to improve Barbossa's mood, since his ship had not fared as well since leaving Tortuga a short while before, but anything else he might have said at that moment was forestalled by Chevalle spotting me at the rail and calling out in a charming way.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Doctor!" he cried. "Comment allez-vous, Cherie?"

"Je vais bien. Merci," I said, evidently a bit unconvincingly. Chevalle, of course, wouldn't know that anything was wrong.

"Hector!" Chevalle cried, "Why not come and celebrate wiz us? It would help mend ze wounds between our two ships, no?"

Barbossa looked like he was going to decline, but then thought better of it.

It really doesn't take much, I have discovered, to talk pirates into celebrating just about anything, and it was not long before preparations were underway, once the ships were made secure, for a festive gathering of pirates onshore. The _Fancy_ had commandeered a vast supply of rum and fine wine, and two goats were slaughter and prepared by Jerome, to be roasted on the beach.

I knew enough about pirates at that point, and indeed Pirate Lords, to understand that although Chevalle had invited the _Rogue'_s captain and crew in the spirit of camaraderie, it was now his turn to show off.

Unfortunately for me, Barbossa had time to realize that I still remained at large, and would have sent me back to the brig for no other reason than to remind me just who was in charge, if it weren't for Chevalle insisting that I be brought onshore to dine with them. Evidently I had made a favorable impression in Tortuga, and he was anxious to converse with me in French again, as my accent was considerably better than Barbossa's.

All I can say, looking back at that day, is that it was a fair bit of luck indeed that the HMS _Valiant _was no where near that island that afternoon, as the crews of both ships took to drinking quite heavily, and wouldn't have been capable of staying afloat in a large bathtub, never mind sailing a large ship.

There were songs and stories, and contests involving knives and pistols, and a fair amount of laughter all around. While the two crews managed to patch up any of their differences quite nicely, I have to say that the same could not be said of Captain Barbossa and myself.

Although he was cordial to Chevalle and joined in his share of mutual toasts between the two Pirate Lords, even the French captain knew that something was out of place. Perhaps it was because I spent most of the time that I had been allowed to join the captains' party staying considerably closer to and conversing only with Chevalle.

I suppose that after seeing me interact with Barbossa that night in Tortuga, compared to the way I refrained from even saying a word to him that evening on the beach, would have been a dead giveaway that there was tension existing between us.

Chevalle, after doing his share of trying to make a dent in the supply of wine that the _Fancy_ had stolen, broke off from the story he'd been telling me and spoke more quietly.

"You are not enjoying much of zis fine wine," he said. "Is it not to your liking, Cherie?"

I gave him a faint smile. "No, it's lovely. Really." I turned to stare out over the ocean nearby, watching the last sunlight disappear below the horizon.

"Zen perhaps you prefer a different dinner companion?" he asked.

I turned back quickly, afraid that I had offended the man, but the knowing look he gave me said that was not the case.

"Zair is a bit of, 'ow you say, 'cool air' between you and ze capitaine, tonight, no?" he asked, prying a little.

I shrugged, and he smiled, knowing that he was right.

--

**A/N:** If any of you speak **Portuguese** -I know that the quote in one of the last chapters about the rose and thorn is still not right and would love somebody to set it straight for me. PM me if you can help. Obrigado!


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Thanks to Asqueeinthedistance for the review back at 5 and all the great feedback you guys are all leaving me! :D

You know how two chapters ago things got messy, and how last chapter things got messier? Well, this chapter, things just couldn't get any worse…

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**Chapter Twenty-Five**

--

_Chevalle, after doing his share of trying to make a dent in the supply of wine that the Fancy had stolen, broke off from the story he'd been telling me and spoke more quietly._

"You are not enjoying much of zis fine wine," he said. "Is it not to your liking, Cherie?"

_I gave him a faint smile. "No, it's lovely. Really." I turned to stare out over the ocean nearby, watching the last sunlight disappear below the horizon._

"_Zen perhaps you prefer a different dinner companion?" he asked._

_I turned back quickly, afraid that I had offended the man, but the knowing look he gave me said that was not the case. _

"_Zair is a bit of, 'ow you say, 'cool air' between you and ze capitaine, tonight, no?" he asked, prying a little._

_I shrugged, and he smiled, knowing that he was right_.

--

While a month prior I would have found the idea of sitting around a bonfire drinking with two shiploads of pirates absurd, and a week before I probably would have had enjoyed the evening to a fair extent, the way things were that night, I could barely manage to keep up a conversation in French with Chevalle, as defeated as I had been feeling.

Even though I knew that I wasn't inclined to seek out his company, I did make it a point during the evening to note where Bellamy was, and I guess I was just a tad envious that he was managing to enjoy himself. He'd had enough to drink by that point, that despite the wounds that had not yet healed on his back, he still managed to shuck his clothes and go swimming with a large handful of his drunken companions.

I debated polishing off enough rum at that point to drown my own sorrows, but although I had done some foolish things so far in my time spent with the pirates, getting drunk and passing out on a beach full of nearly a hundred of them was still quite clearly not going to be one of them.

Finally realizing after having sat there sipping wine all evening, that a hundred pirates or not, I was going to have to deal with a pressing matter, I excused myself from Chevalle's company, and headed for the trees.

Although it was dark, and I worried about encountering another scorpion, I used the moonlight to guide me as I picked through the vegetation. I didn't want to venture too far away, but I was determined to put at least some distance between all the men on the beach and myself if I was going to have to answer a call of nature. What I didn't know at that moment, was that there were more than one pair of eyes watching where I went.

While answering such a call in a long dress, in dense tropical vegetation is not an experience I'd like to have often, I managed to settle with the matter in short order, and had begun picking my way back toward the beach, where I could hear the crews launching once again into a French sea shanty that they were butchering.

I was trying my best to watch where I was walking, not wanting to mistakenly step upon any living thing that might take unkindly to having been trod upon, and I didn't pay much attention to the _snap_ of a small branch off to my left at first.

When a second _snap_ followed closely on the heels of the first, I realized that there was probably some manner of creature in the bushes with me, and I began to worry about the story I'd heard from Barbossa about the aggressive wild pigs that lived on many of the surrounding islands.

Another _snap _caused me to turn, not wanting to have such an animal come up behind me, and all I can say is that at that moment, I would have taken a half dozen of the fearsome porcine creatures over what I actually saw.

Standing there, not three feet away from me in the dark, was a shadow that I instantly recognized, and I caught my breath as Stoker stepped forward to block my path.

I took a step back.

"Yer missin' out on the party," he growled from much too close to where I was standing for my liking.

"You're right," I replied, trying to keep my voice from betraying the fact that he scared me. "It seems you are too. Shall we head back?"

I made a very bold and deliberate attempt to just walk by him, and knew instantly, as his hand closed roughly on my elbow, that I was never going to make it to the beach.

I started to scream, but the fact that Stoker clamped his hand over my mouth, coupled with the fact that the beach was currently the site of a drunken pirate sing-along, ensured that my strangled cry went unheard.

"I was thinkin' I might have my own party, right here," he breathed in my ear, and then he laughed as he felt my futile attempt at freeing myself from his grip.

"Yer invited, of course," he said, pulling me backwards roughly up against him, still speaking close to my ear.

He smelled strongly of rum and layers of stale sweat, and I thought his fingers were going to crush my elbow where they were digging in. He nuzzled drunkenly into my neck a little, and I turned my head away as much as I could in disgust.

He slid his hand off my mouth, but any idea I had about screaming was crushed as his fingers grabbed me by the throat, and he stepped around in front of me quickly, and shoved me up against a nearby tree, knocking a bit of wind out of me.

"Now," he said, leaning closer until he was an inch from my face, "yer going to play along like a good girl, ain't yeh, _Doctor_?"

There was a fair amount of derision and cruelty in his tone, and I gave him no answer from where I was being pinned against the tree. I glared at him, furious and terrified at what he might be about to do.

"Well, here's a little insurance that yeh play by the rules, luv," he said with obvious wicked delight at the look that must have come across my face at the sight of the knife he held up in the moonlight. He let go of my neck at that point, but pressed the point of the blade against my throat and watched me carefully, evidently enjoying my torment.

"I won't cut yeh much," he said, pressing his face much too close to mine again. "Jus' a little fer fun."

I gasped as the blade pricked my skin under my chin, and a second later I could feel a small warm trickle sliding down my throat.

"See, that ain't so bad, is it?" Stoker asked sadistically.

I took advantage of him lowering the knife a bit, and made a jump to get by him unsuccessfully, and he grabbed me and slammed me back up against the tree. He stuck me viciously upside the head.

"None of that!" he snarled, watching as I began to loose the battle with the tears of anger and fear that I had been unconsciously waging.

"Get away from me!" I spat, pushing him and trying to make a dash for it again. I hit the tree once again, cried out, and would have kicked him if it weren't for the fact that he anticipated my thoughts, and pressed himself tightly up against me, pinning me and keeping me from being able to strike out at him. He hit me again, splitting my lip a little and causing my surroundings to spin for a moment.

I thought my heart was going to come through my chest, and I managed to fling my head to the side as he tried to kiss me. One hand cruelly grabbed my jaw and turned my head back, as the other pressed the knife into my ribs. I didn't have a chance to curse him before he pressed his mouth roughly over mine.

Disgusted as I was by what he was putting me through, I found myself fighting less against the foul kiss the more he pressed the knife into my skin. I felt a trickle of blood running down my side at that point, since it had taken a fair amount of pressure from the blade before he could get me to submit.

He leered at me when he pulled away, and I turned from him again as he spoke. "Now, that's a bit better, ain't it?" There was a trace of my blood on his lips.

"You're nothing but a foul….." I started to snarl, but was brought up short by the blade being held in front of my eyes.

"Careful," he said, in a sweet, mocking tone. He smiled in the most unpleasant way I could have imagined, and leaned against the tree, pressing his palm there, over my head.

He looked down at the front of my dress, and rested the point of the dagger at my collarbone. "What say we unwrap this fine little package?" he asked, and he let the dagger drag slowing down the front of my dress, pressing hard enough to tear the fabric as it went, and leave the faintest trace of blood running in a line down my chest.

He stopped when he got most of the way down my ribcage, and let the hand with the knife drop again to my side. "Now," he said, digging the blade into my ribs again, "this is where I expect a little cooperation," and he punctuated the last word by jabbing me with the dagger, hard enough to take my breath away and cause a wound that went as deep as muscle.

What I expected from Stoker as his gaze dropped to the long tear in the front of my dress, was for him to us the free hand he had leaned against the tree to tear away more of my dress. The sudden scream of rage that he let out at that moment was the last thing that I expected from him, and the cause of his cry became readily apparent as I followed his own furious gaze to his hand on the tree over my head.

He was unable to move it because it was skewered to the trunk by a dagger, and one with a pearl handle that I had seen many times hanging at Barbossa's hip. The sound of steel on steel caught my attention behind Stoker, and I recognized it as the sound of a sword being drawn.

While I wrote long ago of the first time I saw Barbossa step out of the shadows and onto the _Essex_, and of the terror I felt at that moment, nothing could have been further from the way I felt about seeing the silhouette of that plumed hat in the shadows behind Stoker, or about the way I felt about seeing Barbossa step into the moonlight in front of him, sword in hand.

The voice he spoke to Stoker with at that point was controlled and clearly dangerous.

"Ye'd best be lettin' the lady go," he drawled, walking slowly closer.

I would have made a run for it at that moment if it weren't for the fact that Stoker, although pinned to the tree, had kept the presence of mind to keep the dagger in his other hand pressed into my side, keeping me from being able to get away. I cried out a little as Stoker dug me viciously, causing another puncture, and letting Barbossa know that he still held an important card.

Although the situation was at a momentary standstill, if I hadn't been stuck in the middle, Stoker would have already been dead, and it was only because he still held the knife, I am sure, that Barbossa kept from cutting him down.

"I wager 'tis a rock and a hard place ye find yerself between now, Master Stoker," Barbossa said, waiting patiently. "You can't get free of the tree unless you let go the doctor, and once you let go, I'll not be feelin' kindly toward you fer how ye've treated her."

Stoker, not through making full use of the one card he held, suddenly raised the knife back to my throat. "Back off, Cap'n," he snarled, "or yeh may have me but not before I've taken yer lady with me."

Barbossa lowered his sword a little and took a step back, still biding his time.

At that point, still keeping an eye on Barbossa, Stoker spoke to me again. "Reach up o'er yer head an' pull out that blade," he snarled, apparently finding a solution to his dilemma.

It was a tricky thing to comply with, pinned as I was by the dagger at my throat. Not having much leverage where I was reaching up over my head, it took me a minute and some wiggling, much to Stoker's extreme displeasure, to finally yank out the blade.

It was unfortunate for Stoker that he didn't think about things just a tiny bit sooner, and as I pulled Barbossa's dagger free of the tree and his hand over my head, I flipped the blade around on the downward movement, and extending my arms, managed to drive the blade toward the back of his shoulder. I lacked any real leverage as I was aiming for a spot on a man considerably taller than myself, and I'm afraid I didn't do much damage as the blade fell away at his sudden reaction.

It did cause him enough surprise and pain that he dropped his hand with the knife at my throat, and I tried to jump out of his reach as he slashed one last time at me with the knife, catching me in the leg, and cutting through my skirt and across the back of my thigh as I threw myself to the ground.

He never gave me another thought as he dropped the knife and drew the sword he carried at his hip, intent on meeting Barbossa who had charged when he saw me flip the dagger around.

I would write more about the duel that took place in the moonlight that night, except for the fact that there would not be much to write about. Stoker might have been the best gunner on the ship, but he faced a master swordsman in Barbossa, who would still not be beaten in a duel for another ten years. Stoker didn't even clear the sword from his scabbard before Barbossa, in two rapid moves, had severed the hand that was reaching for the blade, and opened Stoker's throat on the return stroke.

I had barely had time to scramble a few feet away and sit up before I saw Stoker's lifeless body crumple to the ground.

While I sat there, out of breath and shaking from what I'd just been through, Barbossa stood over Stoker for a moment just to be sure he was dead, and then he calmly wiped the sword on the man's shirt and hung it back at his hip.

I vaguely remember thinking that I didn't know what to say to him as he came to stand near me, but anything that might have been said about what had happened in the past few days by either of us, was suddenly unimportant.

I glanced up at him for a moment, still too shaken to rise, and he dropped down on one knee very close to me. "Madeline," he said softly, getting me to look at him.

"Are ye hurt?" he asked me, and then he reached out to let his fingers trail gently along the side of my face where he'd struck me. I realized that he wasn't asking about anything Stoker might have done to me, but referred to what I might have suffered at his own hand.

I shook my head, unable to speak at that moment, as he was tracing my injured lip with his thumb. He withdrew his hand as he realized I was bleeding, and then gently turned my head to inspect the wound at my neck. "This'll mend quickly," he said, seeing that it was superficial.

"Where else are ye cut?" he asked, evidently playing surgeon for me. He inspected the wound that ran down my chest, and found the same thing. "'Tis not but a nasty scratch," he said, gently tugging the remains of my dress in place. "It should not mar the view," he said in an odd way, and I suddenly realized that he was trying to make light of the fact that the wound ran down my cleavage.

For some reason, the fact that he had chosen to make that flirtatious remark caused me to come undone, and the emotion of everything I'd been through, as well as the realization of the fact that in an instant he and I were back on even ground, caused me to clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that escaped.

All I recall him saying softly at that moment was "Easy, lass," as he drew me in against him, and held me until I finally stopped crying.

Barbossa let go and stood up, offering me his hand to help me to my feet. While he noticed the blood and the holes in my dress over my ribs, and tried to inspect the wounds, I discovered the cut in my leg as I tried to stand on it and flinched, reflexively grabbing the injury.

Having discovered the wounds he was looking at were nothing serious, Barbossa saw me stumble a little and steadied me before speaking. "Let's have a look at that," he said, turning me around.

I have to admit, despite the fact that I had just been through quite a narrow brush with disaster, and was coming away from the ordeal with several minor, but painful injuries, that I was a bit flustered as he knelt down and began gathering up my dress and lifting it up far enough to visualize the laceration on the back of my thigh.

Although I couldn't see what he was doing, I was intensely aware of just where his fingers were brushing my skin.

"Well," he said finally, still letting his hand rest on my leg, "it'll need to be bound to get you back to the ship, and there I'll wager ye need some suturin'. 'Tis my opinion the scar will not mar this view either."

I couldn't help but laugh a little at how awful he was being.

He tore a length of cloth from my already shredded dress, and handing me my skirt to hold up, went about tying the makeshift bandage around my leg. Of course, since he had already made me laugh, I knew he wasn't nearly done, and I was right.

"I have to say that ye've surprised me, May," he said as he worked. "I thought yeh to be a right proper lady, and here you are hikin' up yer skirt in the woods fer a pirate after a month at sea."

I picked the wrong time to flirt back.

"It wouldn't be just any pirate that I'd hike my skirt for," I said softly, as he finished what he was doing and stood up to face me.

"Aye," he said, with a bit of an edge to his voice, "apparently just _Master Bellamy_."

--

**A/N**: At least things are starting to look up a little for our pirate romance! ;)

Just a reminder that Friday the 19th is International Talk Like a Pirate Day! :)


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Last chapter I forgot to thank Lazy Chestnut and her Brazilian friend Natasha, for helping me out with the correct Portuguese for the rose scene. Thankee, mates!

Things cozy back up a bit this chapter. ;)

--

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

--

_He tore a length of cloth from my already shredded dress, and handing me my skirt to hold up, went about tying the makeshift bandage around my leg. Of course, since he had already made me laugh, I knew he wasn't nearly done, and I was right._

"_I have to say that ye've surprised me, May," he said as he worked. "I thought yeh to be a right proper lady, and here you are hikin' up yer skirt in the woods fer a pirate after a month at sea."_

_I picked the wrong time to flirt back._

"_It wouldn't be just any pirate that I'd hike my skirt for," I said softly, as he finished what he was doing and stood up to face me._

"_Aye," he said, with a bit of an edge to his voice, "apparently just Master Bellamy."_

--

I recall that wasn't at all where I'd thought the conversation was headed, and had no idea what to say in response. Still standing there with my skirt in my hand, I let it fall away again, feeling suddenly self-conscious and embarrassed about my tryst with Michael being brought up that way.

Barbossa opted not to say anything else, but after seeing that I was picking my way back through the undergrowth with some difficulty, he came back and offered me his arm, which I took gratefully. We walked along that way without speaking for several long minutes.

We managed to get close to where the trees gave way to the beach, when he suddenly stopped and looked me over. Apparently he decided that there wasn't enough left of my dress that I should venture back out on to the beach with a hundred drunken pirates. I was surprised when he shrugged off his frockcoat and held it out for me.

"Here," he said, waiting for me to slip into it.

I smiled at him gratefully, and slid it on. Despite the fact that it was too long for me, at least I could hold it closed across the front, which was more than I could say for the remnants of my dress. I pushed up a sleeve and took hold of his arm again, both of us crossing the length of beach toward the bonfire with our own uneven gaits.

I decided to say something before we made it back to where all the others were still in the middle of their celebration, and he looked down at me when he realized I was watching him.

"Thank you," I said. "I imagine that I could be dead by now if you hadn't shown up."

He shrugged. "More'n likely."

"How did you know that I was in trouble?" I asked, curious about why he had come to my rescue.

"I didn't," he replied. "'Twas my intent to speak with you in private when I'd seen you leave the beach, and was luck that I found you before ye came to more harm."

"Oh," I said, understanding how easily things could have turned badly. "What did you want to speak with me about?"

He gave me an uncomfortable sideways glance. "An apology."

"It's really not necessary..." I started.

He stopped and stood facing me. "Nay, 'tis quite necessary. You've deserved not what I've said, nor the hand I raised against you. I asked fer yer trust, and told you to believe that ye'd not come to any harm by my hand, and now ye have all the right in the world to call me a liar."

I said nothing and he spoke up again. "May, I've no excuse."

"Well, then, perhaps you can give me a reason instead," I said, wanting to hear what he would say.

He walked a step or two away and stood with his back to me. "May I speak plainly?"

"I'd prefer it," I said softly.

"I took out on you all the frustration I felt about ye leavin', topped off with hearin' about blasted _Bellamy_..."

I kept silent to give him a chance to finish.

"I know that ye have to go back, Madeline. I've always known it, but that doesn't mean it's what I want. And as fer Bellamy, well... I guess that be none of my business."

I went and put my hand on his arm. "I guess we both let things happen that we really had no intention of doing," I said gently.

He finally looked at me as if he understood, but wasn't sure what I was saying was the truth.

"May I speak plainly?" I asked.

He nodded. "Aye, I'd prefer it," he said, perhaps with the tiniest bit of sarcasm.

"My understanding is that you never meant to do me any harm, but it was just something that happened out of frustration. Well, the same would be true...for what happened," I said, feeling entirely awkward, "...with Bellamy. It was unintentional."

Barbossa seemed to be thinking things over.

"I don't think either thing is ever likely to happen again," I said, trying to tell him that my interest lay not in Bellamy, and that I'd be willing to place my trust in him again.

"Truly? That's how ye feel about the matter?" he asked, sounding a bit relieved, perhaps.

I nodded up at him from where I still stood with my hand on his arm.

"So," he said, "yer not plannin' on ..."

"No," I said, coming around to stand in front of him, "and Michael already knows."

"Would ye put me latest transgression on yer list then?" he asked, giving me a bit of a wry smile, while referring the list I'd spoken of in Tortuga of the things I would consider forgiving him for.

"Or we could start fresh," I said, still standing there in his coat. "What you did for me tonight wipes the slate clean, in my book," I said softly.

He seemed to consider what I said for another long minute, and then finally nodded. "'Tis fine by me if that be the way yer inclined to feel."

"It is," I said, not looking away from him this time as he stepped closer.

"Then," he asked softly, drawing me near him, "we have an accord?"

"Yes," I answered, letting go temporarily of the front of the coat to rest my hands on his chest, and reaching up to meet him as he leaned down to kiss me.

Looking back now, I have to say that there must have been a greater force conspiring against us from the start, as if being a pirate and a doctor weren't at odds enough. The reason I make that statement is that although I once again found myself more than willing to yield to his romantic advances, someone else evidently had other ideas as to how things should play out, and we found ourselves once again interrupted abruptly, just as his lips started to brush mine.

"Bloody hell!" Turk bellowed drunkenly as he staggered up next to us. " Where the fuck you been, Hector?"

Barbossa gave Turk a look that said he was seriously considering ripping off his remaining arm.

"Oh ho!" Turk said, as he realized that I was stepping back from the captain's embrace. "So, yeh've made up, have yeh? Zat whacher been up to out there?" He gestured a little unsteadily at the woods.

"Pipe down, yeh great stupid ox!" Barbossa scolded him. "Yer a drunken mess!"

"Since wheniz anyfing wrong'd dat?" Turk demanded. "Jus 'cauz yerout here 'oistin' yer tops'l in the bushes wida docter."

"Hoistin' me topsail?" Barbossa asked indignantly, now irritated doubly at our interruption.

"Turk," I said, stepping forward to clarify the matter about my close call, "he barely managed to..."

"Barely managed t' hoist 'is tops'l?" Turk asked, sniggering drunkenly. "Tha's no way 't mpressa woman, Hecter!"

It might not have been so bad if Turk hadn't been so overly loud in his uninhibited state, and Barbossa grabbed him by his shirtfront, snarling at him again. "Shut up, yeh feckless lummox! There's naught wrong with me topsail, and ye needn't be discussin' such matters in front of the lady!"

That prompted Turk to look thoughtfully at Barbossa, and then at me, and then back to Barbossa. "Yeh know...sheez a doctor...mebbe she could help yer problem..."

I had to put a restraining hand firmly on Barbossa's arm at that point.

Once Barbossa had decided not to remove any more body parts from Turk, and I managed to convince the large pirate that I had been in serious trouble in the woods, the matter seemed to finally sink in to his inebriated brain, and he became rather emotional.

He kept giving me one-armed hugs, and after I deftly managed to step between them again, despite my injuries, as Turk dangerously tried to hug Barbossa as well, he decided that the best course of action was to go off and toast the fact that I was alive, and Barbossa was currently his hero.

By that point, once Turk staggered back toward the bonfire and the hoards of pirates that were some combination of drunk, naked from swimming, singing, or passed out, I realized just how exhausted I was, and how much my injuries seemed to pain me once I no longer was being distracted.

Barbossa must have realized it too, and he managed to find a few of the least intoxicated crew to return us in one of the boats to the ship. Getting up the ladder was a bit of a challenge with my injured leg, but I managed to finally make it to the top and step onto the deck.

"I'm going to go below and see about getting what I need to suture this," I said, starting to head for the companionway stairs.

Barbossa would have nothing of the sort, and sent me to his cabin to sit and rest, and went to retrieve what I told him I'd need.

I sat down gingerly in the chair that I was becoming accustomed to using, and waited there alone, listening to nothing but the slow, soft, periodic creak of the ship's timbers as she rose and sank gently on the tide. It occurred to me that it had been a while since I'd felt seasick while on board.

It felt different in the cabin somehow, and I finally figured out that it was because several of the windows that had been blown out of the back of the cabin had been temporarily boarded up by the ship's carpenter. I had gotten up to go and see what the extent of the damage had been just as Barbossa returned with an armful of the things I'd asked for.

I managed to walk a bit stiffly across the cabin to see if he'd gotten everything, and I found him looking at me in a curious way. "What?" I asked.

"'Tis amusin' to see you wearing me coat and walkin' the way yeh are," he said, making light of the fact that I probably was moving in much the same manner he did on a regular basis. "Thankfully yer injury will heal better."

A frown creased his brow when he saw me gather up the suture materials and a cloth that I had dipped in the basin, and head behind the Oriental screen that stood in the corner of the cabin. It wasn't a matter of trust, but it would have been awkward enough for me to deal with my injury without having to do so in front of him.

I called to him from the other side of the screen as I started to remove his coat. "I imagine that you must have had quite some injury at one time?"

"Aye, that it was," he answered, and I heard him slide his chair out from the table and sit down, apparently content to converse that way.

"I guess you must have broken something," I called out, trying with difficulty to hold up my dress, and examine the back of my leg. It wasn't an easy area to get to.

"There not be much that I haven't broken," I heard him say matter-of-factly, and it sounded like he was pouring out a measure of rum, and then another. I wiped the last of the dried blood off my leg and let go of my shredded skirt.

I tried unsuccessfully to find an angle at which I could see more of my wound to begin suturing it, wrestling to keep the dress out of the way again as I did so. "How were you injured?" I asked.

"That be an old story," he said. "It happened when I still sailed with Morgan."

It sounded like he had settled into his chair with the rum, and I decided to risk ditching the dress, or at least what remained of it, for the time being. "Tell me what happened," I said as I still tried to figure out exactly how I was going to see to suture the back of my leg.

Barbossa told me an abbreviated version of the night he'd been injured, describing how fierce the storm was, and how many hands were lost that trip. He paused, realizing that it had been a few minutes since I'd commented on his story. "May?"

"Still here," I said, trying to sound like everything was fine. So far I'd managed to get one suture in place, and that had been with quite a bit of hopping around. I'd decided to leave it for the moment and was placing a trio of sutures over my ribcage, gritting my teeth each time I passed the needle and silk.

Barbossa had nearly wrapped up his story about being caught under the rigging after he'd saved Morgan from the fate that befell him, and I'd only managed to place one more suture. It wouldn't have been quite as difficult if it had been my right leg, but the gash ran across the back of my left, and I was having trouble not just reaching it, but reaching it with my right hand.

He must have heard me curse under my breath as I twisted hard to reach around and pain shot through the wound on my ribcage that I just closed.

"May, are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," I called out. "Just having a bit of a tricky time..."

I heard the chair slide back and his footsteps crossed to the screen. I panicked and grabbed up the coat from the bed, crushing it against me to cover myself until I heard him speak deliberately from the other side of the screen. "How are ye goin' about suturin' that, anyway?"

Apparently he'd considered the logistics of me suturing my own wound, and was coming to the same conclusion that I was.

"I'm not, really," I admitted.

He sounded amused on the other side of the screen. "How long were ye going to wait before askin' fer help?"

"Can you?" I asked, actually not considering that he might be comfortable with suturing a laceration.

"I've stitched up enough of me own injuries, and plenty of injured sailors," he replied. "My handiwork might not be as pretty as yers, but..."

"Wait there," I ordered, and picked up what was left of my dress. After considering it for a beat or two, I dropped it back on the floor. It wasn't like it was going to help me with modesty in the shape it was in. I sighed, and shrugged back into Barbossa's coat, buttoning it from top to bottom. "Alright," I called out, once I had some manner of clothing on.

"Step out here, the lightin' be better," he said from the other side, sounding like he was back over near the table.

I took a deep breath and stepped tentatively out from behind the screen to see that Barbossa had his back to me where he was picking up more silk and a needle.

"Over here, May, so I can see yer leg." He turned around to see what was holding me up, and did a double take at seeing me standing there a bit shyly, in his coat. "Merda!" he swore under his breath. "'Ye look a fair sight better in me coat than I do," he said, obviously noticing that it only covered part of my legs.

He sat down in his chair and beckoned me with a finger. "Come here and turn about," he said, getting right to business. I did as I was asked, and he leaned forward to place the first suture. "Ready?" he asked, giving me some warning.

"Yes." I gritted my teeth as the needle bit into my skin, and held my breath as he drew the silk through, letting it out as he paused to tie the first knot.

It was a curious thing, that although it is fairly unpleasant to have one's skin sewn together with silk thread and a needle, and that the laceration on the back of my leg required another six stitches more than the two I had already placed, my attention was not completely on what Barbossa was doing with the needle.

He worked in silence, concentrating on trying to cause me as little discomfort as he could, and the fact that I also was not keeping up any manner of conversation at the moment while I gritted my teeth, left me free to consider the situation.

The only sound in the cabin for a few long minutes was the intermittent, slow, lazy creaking of the ship's timbers, not only because we were both quiet at the time, but also because there wasn't anyone else on the ship to make noise.

The entire crew of each the _Rogue_ and the _Fancy_ were still back on the beach, and although my previous two most intimate moments with Barbossa had been rudely interrupted, at that point there was no sign of either the HMS _Valiant _or Turk, and I knew that there was nothing that might interrupt a third moment, alone as we were that night.

--

**A/N: **Next chapter will have a companion piece posted as a separate story, so watch for _A Single Night of May_ also! ;)


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **If you haven't heard - Disney announced on Sept. 26, 2008 that Johnny Depp signed on to do PotC 4! Huzzah! Of course you all know I won't rest until I've gotten word that Geoffrey Rush is on board! ;)

**--**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

--

_He worked in silence, concentrating on trying to cause me as little discomfort as he could, and the fact that I also was not keeping up any manner of conversation at the moment while I gritted my teeth, left me free to consider the situation._

_The only sound in the cabin for a few long minutes was the intermittent, slow, lazy creaking of the ship's timbers, not only because we were both quiet at the time, but also because there wasn't anyone else on the ship to make noise._

_The entire crew of each the Rogue and the Fancy were still back on the beach, and although my previous two most intimate moments with Barbossa had been rudely interrupted, at that point there was no sign of either the HMS Valiant or Turk, and I knew that there was nothing that might interrupt a third moment, alone as we were that night._

_--_

I remember considering that the last few short lengths of silk that he needed to place in my skin were the only thing standing between us, and our next very intimate moment. My heart rate had increased a little by the time he tied the final knot, and it had only a little to do with the discomfort of having my skin sutured by then.

The fact that a moment after he placed the needle and suture back on the table, he let his fingers trail gently up my thigh, didn't do anything to help, especially since his hand was against my uninjured leg. I caught my breath and closed my eyes, giving myself over to the fact that I liked his touch.

I felt him stand up behind me, but stayed where I was, content to leave him at the helm, so to speak. Evidently he paused just long enough to place his hat on the table, and I heard him then remove and lay down his sword. He placed his hands gently on my shoulders, and I leaned back against him a little.

I closed my eyes again, as he then slid his hands up to undo the remnants of the braid in my hair, thinking how glad I'd been to see him when he'd stepped into the forest earlier in the night. My close call with death had driven home the advice that I kept hearing from Turk, and I'd already decided that I wouldn't worry about tomorrow. What I wanted at that moment, more than anything, was to be with Barbossa.

He gently tugged the final twist of the plait out of my hair, letting it fall across my shoulders as I spoke to him. "I was never so glad to see anyone as I was to see you tonight," I said softly.

"Really?" he asked, brushing my hair away from the left side of my neck.

I nodded a little as he leaned down closer to the bare skin he had just exposed. "Really," I breathed, "I knew that you'd save me when I heard you draw your sword."

"Did you, now?" he whispered, and then he started kissing my neck with a light feathery touch.

"Yes," I said, gasping a little at the way his lips felt against my skin, and the fact that I found the way his beard tickled me was not unpleasant at all. I leaned back into him a little more.

He spoke very softly between kisses. "Well, 'twould not be just any woman that I'd find meself drawing my sword for." He kissed my neck a little harder after that, and I wasn't entirely sure if we were talking about what happened in the woods anymore.

"No?" I asked, tipping my head to one side to allow him better access to my neck, as I was clearly enjoying what he was doing.

"Not at all," he replied, with just a touch of arrogance that I found entirely charming by that point. He slid one arm firmly around my waist, and had reached gently around in front of me with the other hand, and was slowly undoing the first button on his coat.

It was the only thing I was wearing, but I didn't care as he whispered again in my ear, distracting me as his fingers toyed with the second button. "'Tis a very...very...serious business..." The button came undone, and he reached for the next, "to draw yer weapon..."

I remember smiling a little at his comments, even as I gasped involuntarily at his lips that were caressing my neck again. I pulled away gently from his embrace, enough so that I could turn around to face him, and somehow I found I found my fingers brushing against his.

He lifted my hand to his lips as he kept his eyes on mine, and gently kissed the back of my hand. "M'lady," he said softly, turning and leading me carefully across the cabin to step behind the Asian screen again. Somehow I didn't much notice the just-sutured laceration on the back of my leg.

He led me around to stand before him, and I paused there, still barely wearing his frockcoat as his fingers tightened their grip on mine. He slid his other hand under the back of my hair and drew me in close, watching me with gentle intensity.

If I close my eyes and concentrate for just a moment, I can still recall exactly how it felt when his lips finally met mine that night, in a lingering, smoldering kiss. It still can make my heart race a little when I think about it, which I can tell you, is saying quite something given the length of time that has elapsed since then.

A few kisses of increasing intensity later, his waistcoat, boots and shirt were tossed in a pile on the floor, and I found myself on the bed with him, engaged for a long while in a passionate embrace. It was only a short while after, that his frockcoat joined the rest of his clothes on the floor and I yielded to him completely.

As before, it would be improper of me to share any more of the details of my one night in Captain Barbossa's bed, but suffice it to say that the first time I ever called him by his given name was in the throes of passion, and it would be more than once, before dawn arrived.

The last things I remember before I drifted off to sleep, curled up against him, were the gentle kiss he planted on my forehead, and the sound of the lazy, slow, soft creaking of the ship's timbers as the _Rogue Wave_ rose and fell gently with the change of tide.

--

While I am currently, and always have been an early riser, I found myself waking later the next morning than I typically do, probably from the fact that I was exhausted from my ordeal, and partly because I hadn't really gotten much sleep.

It took me a moment to process exactly where I was, and when it became clear through the hazy thoughts of first waking, I turned my head to look next to me and found that I was alone. I listened carefully, but it appeared that the cabin was empty except for me.

I considered getting dressed and going in search of Barbossa, but I found that I had a bit of a predicament as he'd evidently taken his own clothes and discarded the shredded blood-stained remnants of my dress – which left me wearing naught but the blanket I'd pulled off the bed and wrapped around myself.

From what I could hear, we were not the only two people on board the _Rogue_ any longer, and I certainly wasn't going to venture back to my cabin in nothing but a blanket.

I waited for a while, hoping he might return soon, and just when I was beginning to think he'd forgotten about me, I heard him outside the cabin door, calling words of encouragement to his hungover crew.

"Ye bilge-sucking barnacles!" Barbossa cried across the deck. "I'll have all yer balls skewered and roasted on a spit if ye don't get yer fobbing arses back to work!"

The cabin door opened and Barbossa swept in, obviously in very fine spirits. He smiled as he noticed me standing just beyond the screen, wrapped in the blanket from his bed. Evidently he had thought ahead and gone to my cabin, and I saw he had a dress in his hands.

"Bom dia, senhorita," he said cheerfully.

"Good morning," I said. I felt a little self-conscious standing there draped in the blanket, but truth be told, it probably covered more of me than his coat had the previous evening. "May I have that?" I pointed to the dress.

"What might it be worth?" he asked. He beckoned me with a finger when he saw me hesitate, and I went to stand closer to him. "It'll cost you," he said, teasing me and looking at me expectantly.

I admit that I didn't need much coaxing, and I reached up and kissed him, thinking to obtain my dress, and not realizing that a full minute later I would still be wrapped up in a passionate embrace while the blanket started to slide slowly off my shoulders. I think we might not have left his cabin again for a while if it weren't for the fact that someone once again interrupted us by knocking on the door.

Barbossa took his time ending the kiss, and once he did I took my dress from him and headed behind the screen again as he called to the door for the person to enter. Of course it was Turk.

"I see ye managed to remember where the ship be," Barbossa said sarcastically.

"Stow it, Hector," Turk said, flinging himself into a chair at the table from what it sounded like from behind the screen. "My head's about to split open."

"And who's fault be that?" Barbossa asked, obviously not having much sympathy for his bo'sun's hangover.

Turk merely snorted, and then he spoke again. "So?"

"So...?" Barbossa asked in return.

"Are yeh gonna to tell me?" Turk asked.

"Tell ye, what?" Barbossa asked in reply.

"Did yeh bed yer pretty wench or not?" Turk asked more insistently, fishing for details about what had probably happened.

"That be none of yer business," Barbossa answered him, "and before ye do aught to embarrass yerself, me pretty wench be yonder." I assumed that he indicated where I was dressing behind the screen.

"Shit," Turk swore, evidently meaning to ask Barbossa about me in private. "Good mornin', May," he called to me.

"Good morning, Turk," I called back to him. Of course, he had the answer to his question, as it wouldn't take a genius to figure out I was putting clothes on back there.

When I stepped out from behind the screen, I am sure that my face was red, and Turk couldn't resist giving me a bit of a difficult time. "Ah, yeh poor thing," Turk said sympathetically to me, "yer ruined fer life now because of this rogue. Yeh've heard me say it before, darlin' –once yeh've had a pirate, there's no goin' back."

I thought it wisest not to point out that by that point I'd had two pirates.

I know that Turk was teasing and insinuating that I'd not want to be with another man who wasn't a pirate, but the subject of _going back_ was a bit of a sticky spot that morning, and one that I'd not yet discussed with Barbossa.

When Turk finally took his leave of us, I could tell by the silence he left behind in the cabin that both of us were thinking along the same lines, and Barbossa managed to say something before I could bring myself to speak. "We'd best speak plainly about the matter and be done with it," he said, his buoyant mood of a few moments before clearly gone.

"Ye can't stay, Madeline," he said soberly. "The ship's no place fer you, and we both know it."

"I know," was all I could manage.

"It doesn't mean it not be what I want," he went on, "but ye can't honestly say 'twould be what would make you happy."

He was right, but it pained me to say so, and so I didn't as I looked away. "What I want..."

"Is what?" he asked a bit sharply, obviously ill at ease with how he was feeling.

I looked back at him and spoke as plainly as I could. "Is you."

I think he wasn't expecting me to make such a declaration, and I daresay it blindsided him emotionally. He turned away from me, unused to and uncomfortable with discussing such things. I remembered how much pain he must have been in the night we thought Turk was going to die, and how much he kept that hurt to himself. I had the impression he was going through the same thing then.

"Ye don't know what yer sayin'," he said hoarsely with his back still turned.

"Don't I?" I asked him sharply. "Do you think this to be some whim of mine? Some folly? Do you think me to be some vague-minded silly girl prone to flights of fancy?"

"Nay," he said quietly. "Ye'd be a woman who knows her own mind well enough, if not her own worth."

There he was again, telling me I was more than I gave myself credit for. It was my turn to be emotionally blindsided as I didn't know how to handle the compliment. The fact of the matter was, that I didn't know how to handle compliments from men well, as I had spent so long competing with them, and struggling to be considered in the same light, that it wasn't often that a lot of men felt comfortable with complimenting me.

I don't mean I haven't had my share of romantically inclined suitors offer some flattering word or remark, I mean that other than my family, my professors, and Monsieur Dumond, I just wasn't used to men offering me praise about my work or my character.

Barbossa had done so in earnest since almost the day I met him, and I couldn't help that it was part of the reason that I felt the way I did about him.

"Yes, I do know my own mind, in this matter as well," I said back to him. "If it's you that isn't of a mind to feel the same way I do, then speak plainly and be done with it." I spoke again, my voice a little strained, before he had a chance to say anything. "If this has been a whim of yours...?"

He turned suddenly and came toward me, looking angry. "A whim? Is that why ye think I've gone to such lengths to keep you from harm's way, beginnin' to finish?" he demanded. "Is that what ye think I considered last night? A whim?"

"I don't want to think that," I said softly.

"Then don't," he snarled softly. He was pacing as he did when he was agitated. "Ye want me to speak plainly? Very well, I'll speak as plainly as I can."

He continued to pace as he spoke. "The truth be that ye caught me attention the night ye piped up during the raid on yer ship, lookin' out fer that child and her mother. There be few enough men that would have faced me down," he said arrogantly.

I waited, while he continued to pace, for him to continue.

"The night ye operated on Turk...I never expected I'd..." he hesitated as he came to a standstill, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You'd what?" I asked very softly, going to stand near him.

He said nothing for a long moment and then spoke softly. "I remember watchin' you struggle that night. You fought through that storm and bein' ill, and even with bein' kidnapped and surrounded by pirates, you tried yer best to look out fer someone that ye'd never even met," he said.

"'Twas not a selfish thing on yer part, either," he continued. "You had no idea whether ye'd come to harm or not when you were finished, yet it was obvious that a dyin' man be yer only concern."

He had calmed down by that point, and finally looked at me. "'Twere a grand thing that night, May."

"Watching me cut off half of Turk's arm?" I asked, puzzled.

"Nay," he said softly, his eyes finally meeting mine again, "findin' out exactly who ye be."

I laughed a little at that point. "But, I was on the floor in a mound of blood-soaked sand, vomiting my dinner at poor Hickmott's feet," I protested.

"That be true," he said with a small wry grin, "but what I could see from watchin' better'n you could from the floor, was that ye be about to accomplish a fine thing, indeed. You just needed to be picked up and dusted off a bit."

I think he couldn't bear to see the tears that were in my eyes, and he tried to make light of the situation. "And see what a fine thing 'twas ye accomplished? You saved Turk, so now that every time I be of a mind to kiss you, he ruins the moment."

He did make me laugh, despite the tears. "Turk's not here now," I said. I didn't have to make the suggestion twice, and he kissed me once gently, and then gathered me into his arms and kissed me in a deep, desperate way that made me weak.

When he pulled away abruptly, he turned away as well, his voice hard again. "Ye best be goin' ashore a soon as ye can," he said in a strained way. "The _Rogue Wave_ is not fit fer a lady such as yerself," he said bitterly, "and neither be her captain." He walked out of the cabin and let the door close behind him, offering me no opportunity to say anything in reply.

I was trying to decide what I felt about what he'd said, when the door to the cabin opened, and I figured he had thought of something else he wanted to say. I was surprised to see Turk poke his head in. "I'd say by the way he looked when he walked out of here, that yer conversation didn't go so well."

I shrugged and then shook my head, not really sure what had just happened, and Turk stepped in and closed the door. "Well, this is gettin' ridiculous," he announced, "the two of yeh dancin' around the fact that neither one of yeh can say what it is yer really feelin'. Someone needs to take matters into his own hands."

"I suppose that would be you?" I asked.

"Aye, an' I'll get further along talkin' to you than to him," Turk said, coming to stand closer to me next to the table.

"Why is that?" I asked, curious why he thought so.

"'Cause he's scared to death, May," Turk said, honestly.

"He told you that?" I asked, surprised that he would tell me such a confession from Barbossa.

"The peacock? Admit he's afraid of somethin'?" Turk asked, sounding amused. "Nay, but there's no one as knows Barbossa better'n me, darlin'. It's not the only thing that I can see he's not sayin'."

"He's not the only one that's afraid, Turk," I confessed, "and he's right about me not being able to stay on the ship. I do need to go back."

Turk waved at me dismissively. "So, go back," he said, taking on a lecturing tone, "but if yeh leave before yeh've had yer say, yeh'll always regret it, and wonder what might have happened if yeh'd done otherwise."

"And if I do have my say?" I asked, wanting an answer.

Turk smiled and shrugged. "I dunno, but I'd say it can't hurt, and I'm gettin' a bit tired of all the angst around here."

I smiled back. "Angst is a bit of a fancy word for a pirate."

Turk waved me off again with a grin. "Barbossa's been wearin' off on me, I reckon."

I smiled at him and headed for the door. "I guess that would make two of us, Master Turk."

--

**A/N: **I kept the night Barbossa spends with May a little on the brief side in this chapter to maintain the flow of the story, but you can find the longer version over at A Single Night of May. ;)

For those of you who have been asking, there are thirty chapters total to the story.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Thank you so much to all of you that read and reviewed _A Single Night of May_! It was lovely to get such great feedback on the story! :D

--

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

--

_"The peacock? Admit he's afraid of somethin'?" Turk asked, sounding amused. "Nay, but there's no one as knows Barbossa better'n me, darlin'. It's not the only thing that I can see he's not sayin'."_

"_He's not the only one that's afraid, Turk," I confessed, "and he's right about me not being able to stay on the ship. I do need to go back."_

_Turk waved at me dismissively. "So, go back," he said taking on a lecturing tone, "but if yeh leave before yeh've had yer say, yeh'll always regret it, and wonder what might have happened if yeh'd done otherwise."_

"_And if I do have my say?" I asked, wanting an answer._

_Turk smiled and shrugged. "I dunno, but I'd say it can't hurt, and I'm gettin' a bit tired of all the angst around here."_

_I smiled back. "Angst is a bit of a fancy word for a pirate."_

_Turk waved me off again with a grin. "Barbossa's been wearin' off on me, I reckon."_

_I smiled at him and headed for the door. "I guess that would make two of us, Master Turk."_

--

When I stepped out of the cabin, I could see that Barbossa was at the rail across the deck, where the _Fancy _was already preparing to leave. I went to stand next to him in order to say my goodbyes as well, and I made a very obvious point to slip my hand under his arm as he stood there speaking to Chevalle.

He neither said anything, nor looked at me, but he made no move to pull away, and neither did I as Chevalle called across.

"Mademoiselle Doctor!" he cried, obviously in fine spirits. "I would appear zat ze air is a bit warmer today, no?"

He made it seem as if he were speaking about the weather, but I knew better. "Oui, Andre," I said, feeling just a little self-conscious about his observation, but smiling nonetheless.

"Well, perhaps we shall meet again," he called. "Au revoir, Cherie."

"Au revoir, Capitaine," I replied cordially, giving a small wave with the hand not still resting on Barbossa's arm. I waited for the two captains to say their farewells, and when the _Fancy _had set sail, I turned to speak to Barbossa. "Might I have a word?" I asked, indicating that we should perhaps walk away from where a few of the crew were gathered.

He said nothing, but walked forward toward the bow, obviously unsure about what I wanted to say, but not seeming to mind that I was willing to be seen on his arm in front of the crew.

When we had a modicum of privacy, he turned to me, his expression mostly unreadable, although perhaps a bit wary. "What would ye say to me, May?" he asked evenly.

When I looked up at him I had to shade my hand with my eyes, as the Caribbean sun was bright that morning, although the air was still pleasant out on the ship. A breeze off the water was tugging at my hair and the plume that waved over Barbossa's head, and the sight of it distracted me just for a moment, causing me to smile at the thought of the night we'd gone ashore in Tortuga, and I had teased him that he was a puffed up peacock and dashing pirate captain all at once.

I remember thinking that for good or bad, Barbossa was a lot of things all at once.

Still waiting for me to have my say, Barbossa spoke when he saw me smile. "Mayhap ye might share with me what be so amusin'?"

"Your hat," I said, giving a tiny wry smile.

He narrowed his eyes at me and sounded a little defensive. "What be wrong with me hat?"

"Nothing," I said, letting out the deep breath I hadn't realized I'd just taken, as I let go of his arm and stood facing him from only a few inches away. "Nothing at all. As a matter of fact, I love your hat," I said, meeting his gaze steadily.

He seemed content with my answer and I could see his expression relax.

I steeled myself and reached up to touch his face gently with my fingers, thinking again how little I noticed the scar there anymore when I was with him. "Your hat, and the man who wears it," I added, very softly.

It was one of the few times since I had known him that he appeared completely at a loss for words, and he stared at me unbelieving for a minute or so.

Even though Turk had wanted to speak with Barbossa about readying the ship to leave, he'd evidently witnessed what was taking place from across the deck, and decided not to interrupt.

Unfortunately, the same thing could not be said for the HMS_ Valiant._

"Madeline," was all Barbossa had managed to say as he'd started to pull me in closer, before we both jumped reflexively at the distant explosion.

Turning to look out over the bow, it became apparent to us that the _Fancy_, not quite past the last point of the island we'd anchored next to, was under attack. The _Valiant_ had evidently been doggedly pursuing us since the night we first encountered her, convinced that the _Rogue Wave_ was still somewhere in waters nearby.

Whatever Barbossa was going to say to me at that moment would have to wait, and he grabbed me by the arms and spoke urgently. "May, get below!" he cried, and then he bolted for the helm even as the crew began scurrying up the rigging and down to the gun deck.

Of course, I have already written about why I didn't want to go below during our last battle with the _Valiant_, but not wanting to provoke Barbossa at that point, I decided to comply with his order, at least for the moment.

I waited in my cabin, while evidently topside, the _Rogue_ had hastily weighed anchor, and was preparing to make a run for the open sea beyond the _Valiant_ as she pursued the _Fancy_, delivering heavy damage to the French pirate ship as they scrambled to ready their own guns to retaliate.

Barbossa was going to have to thread the needle between the _Valiant_ and the shallows near the island off to our starboard, and might have done so if two things had not happened simultaneously that prevented our escape.

The captain of the _Valiant_, seeing that the _Fancy_ had a greater head start than the _Rogue_, and that she was beginning to open up some distance between them, decided to alter course to try and intercept us, and veered to port to head in our direction.

The second thing that happened, although not as deliberately pre-meditated as the actions of the _Valiant,_ was that the _Fancy_, in her bid for freedom, had aimed one last parting barrage of cannon fire at the _Valiant_. As the _Valiant _came about to pursue the _Rogue_, she inadvertently left her stern more vulnerable than she'd thought, and the _Fancy_ did a fair amount of damage to her transom, and demolished a considerable amount of her rudder.

The end result was that the _Valiant,_ still under full sail when she'd made the turn toward us, was without a means to control the direction of her momentum, and it left her swinging in an arc, on a direct collision course with us. As the _Rogue_ had little room to maneuver, we were left with the choices of running aground on our starboard or colliding with the _Valiant_.

Barbossa opted for the collision, and as I waited in my cabin, listening fearfully to the cannons being fired from and at the _Rogue Wave_, I suddenly found myself thrown to the floor with the tremendous impact of the two ships slamming into each other's flanks.

Having little idea of what we had just hit, I decided that I had had enough of waiting below, and decided to risk Barbossa's anger. As I ran up the companionway, I was overtaken by many of the crew that were running past me with pistols and swords at the ready.

Evidently in the moment of the impact, the battle had gone instantly from a ship to ship skirmish, to hand to hand combat.

What I know now, is that the HMS _Valiant_ was a frigate much like the _Rogue Wave_, which meant she was a fifth rate ship of very similar size that combined speed, firepower, and maneuverability, and she was armed with just under forty guns.

While the _Rogue _carried somewhere between forty-five and fifty pirates efficiently, the _Valiant_ was manned closer to the capacity intended for such a ship in the navy, and she carried just shy of two-hundred sailors, effectively outnumbering the pirates four to one.

When the _Rogue Wave _had encountered the cargo ship weeks ago, the crew had boldly boarded the other ship, and quickly overwhelmed the less experienced and smaller crew. Barbossa knew better with the current odds than to attempt a direct assault, and he set about strategically trying to balance the scales.

Upon seeing that a collision was inevitable, he had already sent a portion of the crew up into the rigging, and once the _Valiant_ had become entangled alongside the _Rogue_, the men overhead had started firing down at the crew of the naval ship, rapidly picking them off before they even made it to the rail.

Any members of the navy that tried likewise to climb their rigging were also shot down quickly, before they managed to gain any height advantage.

One of the other most effective things Barbossa did to try and even up his odds against the _Valiant_, was to send Hoskins aloft with the sole purpose of targeting the _Valiant's_ officers, and by the time several of them had been assassinated, it was causing a great deal of confusion, at least temporarily, on their side.

It was inevitable that the sheer numbers of navy sailors would eventually take its toll on the pirates' defenses, and even though Barbossa had managed to decrease the odds to just under three to one, the surge of marines finally started to make headway in their attempt to board our ship.

I had thrown myself behind the mizzenmast, out of the line of fire, and watched as the pirates met the oncoming wave of marines in fierce combat. The clash of steel on steel rang out everywhere across the ship, punctuated by the periodic shots being fired down from the marksmen in the rigging.

It was unavoidable that the battle would claim some of the lives of the pirates as well, and it wasn't long before I saw a man a didn't know well fall into the sea, followed by another that had been run through not far from where I had taken cover.

A moment later, after shooting down another marine who was trying to cross to the _Rogue_, Jiggs was mortally wounded and plummeted from his perch overhead, hitting the deck only a moment after his rifle did.

I could tell by the way he fell that there was nothing I could do for him, as he'd probably been dead before impact, and I found myself angry at the _Valiant's_ crew for killing one of the pirates I had gotten to know to a fair extent.

The noise and confusion were tremendous around me, but occasionally I could pick out a voice here and there that I recognized. Although I could not see him at that moment, I could periodically hear Barbossa's voice as he shouted orders to his crew, or cursed a sailor unfortunate enough to cross blades with him.

I decided at that point that I should find a way of defending myself, in case the very likely need should arise, and I managed to crawl the few feet to where Jiggs had fallen and retrieve his rifle, while dodging several pairs of feet, pirate and otherwise.

Jiggs had fired the weapon before he'd died, and unless I planned on clubbing someone over the head with the rifle, it was going to be useless without more ammunition. Unfortunately it meant having to search Jigg's still form, and although I had been exposed to my share of corpses as a doctor, going through his clothes and retrieving his ammunition was not a pleasant task.

I took the ammunition and rifle back with me behind the mast, and crouching down, opened the frizzen and primed the gun. I charged the gun with powder, followed it with a ball and tamped it down with the rod, all as my uncle had taught me years before. Leaving the safety on, I stood up with my back to the mast, trying to decide on where I should go from there.

No place on deck appeared to be left that was safe, and I began to do the only thing that seemed to make any sort of sense to me at the time – I headed cautiously in the direction I had last heard Barbossa's voice.

How I managed to make it even as far as the mainmast without being injured is beyond me, and I remember passing Turk at one point, who was busy flinging an opponent over the railing one handed. I saw where he had dropped his sword, and managed to retrieve it and toss it his way.

I think he would have liked to have berated me at that moment for being on deck, but I think he knew as well as I did that it was really only a matter of minutes before the areas below deck were overrun with marines as well.

What I realized quickly, after getting his sword back to him, was that he was likewise trying to get to the area at the front of the ship where he'd last seen his captain, and we shared a knowing look before he managed to throw his back up against the mainmast next to me.

"He's going to kill you fer bein' out here," Turk said abruptly, swinging viciously at the next sailor that came by the mast. The man went down in a still heap on the deck.

"What the fuck yeh think yeh're doin', anyway?" he demanded, jumping at me and running through a man in uniform that had come up on my other side.

"Don't start with me, Turk," I said. "I'm not going to sit below and wring my hands, waiting to find out what my fate might be again."

"Yeh plannin' on shootin' a few navy boys then, May?" Turk asked me, venturing a glance past me to see if he could spot Barbossa on the crowded deck.

"Not unless they start trouble with me," I replied, following his glance for a brief instant.

As much as I was ready to completely admit that I didn't want to see the crew of the _Valiant_ come out victorious, it hadn't been all that long before that I would have, and I just couldn't bring myself to shoot any members of the Royal Navy. I'd spent too much of my life doing everything in my power to preserve life, and that didn't appear as if it was going to change any time soon.

That is until what happened next.

Aft of where Turk and I stood, part of the crew on deck had become surrounded by the overwhelming numbers of sailors that had swarmed that section of the ship, and it became apparent that the half dozen pirates, including young Hickmott, were in a hopeless situation, outnumbered as they were.

They did the only thing they could at that moment -they dropped their weapons and raised their hands in an obvious gesture of surrender.

What made me change my mind at that moment about using the gun in my hands was that the junior officer in charge of the attacking group gave the order to fire anyway, and the six pirates, including Hickmott, the young man that had served as my surgical assistant and messenger from Barbossa so frequently, dropped to the deck dead, after being executed on the spot.

I think the horrified cry I let out was only heard by Turk when the boy was shot down, and I stood there in shock, unmoving until Turk nudged me to indicate I should watch out to my left again.

Angry beyond what I have ever felt at that point, I dodged the pair of dueling combatants to my left, and dropped to one knee, sighting the gun on the officer that had given the order. I think Turk couldn't believe what he was seeing at that moment, and a few seconds later, the officer fell to the deck, dropping his sword and clutching at his leg where I'd put a bullet through his knee.

Turk covered me while I took fifteen or twenty seconds to reload the gun, and we both made a dash for the foremast, trying still to find Barbossa, and also trying to avoid the group that had just cut down Hickmott after I'd shot the officer in their midst.

The number of marines was steadily overwhelming the smaller number of pirates by then, and slowly they were all being driven forward across the deck. I ducked as Turk parried a blow from a blade meant for me, and it became painfully apparent that I was going to share in the same fate as my pirate companions.

We finally spotted the plumed hat above the sea of heads on deck, forward of where we stood, and I could hear Barbossa's voice, jeering at his opponents as he continued to defeat them one by one. "Yeh pathetic, bottom-feedin' maggots!" he cried. "I'll teach ye to board me ship uninvited."

Despite the endless stream of marines that were appearing in the vicinity, Barbossa was doing an impressive job of cutting a swath single-handedly through their numbers.

He ran another through, and yanked the blade out of the man's ribs in time to draw back and slash at the next, cutting deep into the man's neck. "My regards to Davy Jones, ye red-coat kraken bait!"

While horrified at the trail of destruction Barbossa was leaving in his wake, I couldn't help but be impressed at the same time with the skill with which he wielded the sword in his hand. It would have been mesmerizing to watch, if it weren't for the fact that the amount of blood left behind on the deck from his victims was becoming appalling.

I panicked for an instant as I saw him already facing down two more swordsmen simultaneously, and another pair sprang to attack him at the same time. How he ducked out of the middle, I don't really know, but he managed to run one through with another's blade, just as Hoskins took out another with a shot from overhead. Turk had bolted from my side to engage the third, who was trying to strike Barbossa from behind, and the captain quickly dispatched the fourth himself.

It was obvious at that moment, that if Chevalle had not brought the _Fancy_ about, and returned to engage the _Valiant_ as well, the entire crew of the _Rogue Wave_, more than likely including myself, would have been killed that day or captured, only to be returned to Port Royal and hung.

Chevalle had brought the _Fancy_ along the opposite side of the _Rogue_, and the pirates suddenly found their numbers reinforced when the French crew began spilling onto the deck and attacking the navy soldiers.

Turk still fought side by side with Barbossa, and I found myself suddenly confronted by a Naval officer, who pointed his sword at me and demanded that I drop the rifle. When I refused and took a step back, he evidently was reluctant to do harm to a woman, and his momentary hesitation cost him his life, as Michael Bellamy sprang to my defense and cut the man down where he stood.

"May!" Bellamy cried above the noise, coming to stand by my side. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, and then shoved him out of the way and raised the gun. I had seen Chevalle come on deck just beyond where Bellamy stood, and as the French pirate captain had instantly been met by two soldiers with swords drawn, he was too preoccupied to notice the third about to attack him from behind.

I took aim and fired, and another member of His Majesty's finest hit the deck, screaming in agony after I'd blasted through his kneecap.

As Turk had before, Bellamy covered me while I quickly reloaded. When I stood up from where I'd knelt to load the gun, Chevalle gave me a brief nod, acknowledging that he understood what I had just done for him.

I found myself dragged aside of the mast by Bellamy, and he parried the blow that was meant for one of us, hacking fiercely at our assailant and eventually dispatching the sailor in short order. I started looking around, having lost track momentarily of where I'd seen Barbossa and Turk still fighting somewhere closer to the ship's bow.

Hoskins had managed to dispatch another pair of officers along with the sailors he'd been picking off from overhead, and that combined with the arrival of Chevalle and his men served to even things up nicely. With less and less direction from their superiors in the battle, and the sight of fifty or so more pirates savagely bearing down on them, the marines were beginning to find themselves demoralized, and were becoming less effective.

I heard Barbossa's voice, from some point fore of where I stood, shouting orders to his crew to fight alongside the French pirates and drive the British sailors off the _Rogue_. I had managed, with Michael by my side, to finally find where he was standing, and I was relieved to see that he appeared unharmed, as he directed the crew that had rallied to his side, sending a renewed attack against the navy.

I felt even more relief as I saw that many of the marines were, in fact, trying to get off the _Rogue _at that point, that is until I heard Bellamy curse next to me and point at the HMS _Valiant._

There, up in the rigging, one of the remaining officers, a lieutenant, had dragged a rifle with him, and having just apparently finished with loading it, had braced himself against the mast and was taking steady aim fore of where we stood.

Desperate to halt the retreat and possibly salvage a victory from the terrible battle, the lieutenant had taken matters into his own hands, and was about to use Barbossa's own tactics against him. If anything might slow the turn of events, cutting down the _Rogue's_ captain would probably have been the one thing that could have worked.

It took me only seconds to follow the officer's line of sight and deduce what he had in mind. Barbossa, busy on deck with the battle, would never think to look overhead, and the plumed hat sitting atop his head was presenting a very easy and obvious target.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading! _Memories of May_ has nearly reached 11,000 hits and over 400 reviews! Having so many readers who seem to be enjoying the story has made this even more fun for me!

--

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

--

_There, up in the rigging, one of the remaining officers, a lieutenant, had dragged a rifle with him, and having just apparently finished with loading it, had braced himself against the mast and was taking steady aim fore of where we stood._

_Desperate to halt the retreat and possibly salvage a victory from the terrible battle, the lieutenant had taken matters into his own hands, and was about to use Barbossa's own tactics against him. If anything might slow the turn of events, cutting down the Rogue's captain would probably have been the one thing that could have worked._

_It took me only seconds to follow the officer's line of sight and deduce what he had in mind. Barbossa, busy on deck with the battle, would never think to look overhead, and the plumed hat sitting atop his head was presenting a very easy and obvious target_…

--

I cried out to Barbossa across the deck, and he ducked a little, but not because he'd heard my voice above the commotion –it had only been to evade the blow that had come at him from the opponent he faced.

I knew at that point he couldn't hear me, and that I would never make it to where he was in time to warn him, so I did the only thing I could possibly do at that moment to save him.

Raising the rifle quickly, I sighted the blue uniform in the rigging, and without taking time to aim for some less critical part of the lieutenant's anatomy, fired on the man that was pulling the trigger on his own gun.

I knew I'd hit him by the way he jerked, but I didn't even look to see where, or if he fell, as I instantly whirled to see what had become of Barbossa when the other rifle fired a second after my shot.

I nearly collapsed with relief as I saw that I had caused the officer's shot to veer off target just a little, missing Barbossa's head by such a small margin that he sported a small hole through the rear of his hat's wide brim.

Bellamy put a steadying hand on my arm, realizing as well what I had done, and he pointed across to the _Valiant_, where the lieutenant had fallen and was hanging upside down, tangled in the rigging, blood spreading over a wound through his chest.

There was nothing I could do from where I stood, and I watched, horrified, as the man tried once in vain to right himself, and then fell back to hang there, quite obviously dead.

The realization that I had just killed a man in cold blood would cause that moment to be the second time I had collapsed to my knees, vomiting the contents of my stomach in front of Bellamy, and I only wished that it had been from seasickness.

He stood guard over me, although by that point it probably wouldn't have been necessary, as the disorganized and demoralized remains of the naval force were doing their best to escape the _Rogue_ and the _Fancy,_ and climb back aboard the _Valiant._

Nothing would save them that day, for those that remained on deck were cut down by the pirates, and those that escaped to the _Valiant_ and disengaged the ship from the _Rogue_, had no where to go since their ship was so heavily damaged, and her rudder was inoperable.

When I managed some semblance of composure, and got back to my feet, Barbossa had already made it to the helm, and was giving orders that brought us away from the _Valiant_, just far enough that he then proceeded to blow her apart systematically, raking her from fore to aft.

The crew might have had time to abandon ship and take their chances with the nearby island, if it weren't for the fact that one of the blasts from the _Rogue's_ cannons struck their powder magazine, and the _Valiant_ exploded in spectacular fashion, leaving no survivors in the wreckage.

At that moment, while I watched the smoking remains of the HMS _Valiant _sinking beneath the waves, Barbossa had left the helm, and was striding across the deck toward me, evidently by the look on his face, about to berate me again for putting myself in harm's way and ignoring an order again.

To my surprise, Bellamy, having evidently guessed what was on the captain's mind, intercepted him and spoke first.

"Cap'n, a word if you please?" Michael said gravely.

Barbossa didn't seem inclined to stop and chat, and continued toward me until Bellamy actually took hold of his arm, earning himself an unblinking stare from Barbossa that would have caused the staunchest pirate to take a step back. Bellamy was smart enough to remove his hand, although he still stood between the captain and me.

"A word, Cap'n," he requested again.

"What?" Barbossa asked impatiently, shooting me a furious look before facing Bellamy.

"Cap'n, before you say anything," Bellamy explained, "May coming on deck here is the reason you're still standing."

Barbossa's eyes narrowed. "What are ye speakin' of, Master Bellamy?" he asked impatiently again.

Bellamy indicated Barbossa's hat, which apparently he didn't know had been adorned with a bullet hole during the battle. He took it off his head to see what Bellamy was on about, and he took on a mildly surprised expression when he saw the small defect.

"May, here, picked off the fellow intending that shot to be for your head," Bellamy said evenly, " and not a second too soon."

"Eet is true, Barbossa," Chevalle chimed in from where he was approaching our trio along with Turk. "Zere would be one less Pirate Lord here today eef she did not shoot ze man dead, 'oo 'ad targeted you but a moment before."

Barbossa was forced to let go of his anger as Bellamy and Chevalle informed him of the fact that I had apparently saved his life, and although he said nothing, his eyes met mine briefly before he spoke. "I need yer help still, May," he said, indicated the deck of the _Rogue_, and I knew he was unfortunately right.

--

It was well into evening before I had finished tending the wounded. Two more of our crew died, as well as several of Chevalle's men, and our losses had brought our numbers down to thirty pirates and one doctor left aboard the _Rogue_. Perhaps one might argue at that point that it was thirty-one pirates.

I did my best for a small handful of wounded soldiers that managed to survive, including the two I'd shot. They were being kept in the brig until they made up their mind about whether they would succumb to their injuries. What fate would befall them if they lived, I did not know at that time.

While I had been occupied with the injured, the rest of the crew, including Turk and Barbossa, had been seeing to the dead, and by the time night fell, there were a lot more sailors and pirates that had gone to the depths of the Locker.

While I finished bandaging the wound I had sutured on Hoskins' leg, the last wound I would tend for a few hours, Capitaine Chevalle came to seek me out. He nodded at Hoskins as the man limped away and I again washed my hands of someone else's blood.

"A word, Mademoiselle?" he asked, drawing me aside.

"Do not think I do not realize zat zere are two Pirate Lords 'oo owe you zere lives tonight," he said solemnly. "I will not forget zis." He took my hand and raised it to his lips for a brief moment. "Merci, Madeline." He nodded at me once, and turned on his heel and walked away.

By that point, the ship was largely quiet as most of her remaining crew were either unconscious or exhausted, and once I had run out of living patients to tend to, I did the thing that I'd been wanting to since the battle had ended that morning. I went in search of Barbossa.

I found him standing by the rail, conversing with Turk quietly, about what, I do not know. Both men looked at me when I approached, and Turk excused himself with the reason that he needed to speak to Harlow, and he patted my shoulder affectionately when he walked by.

I stood at the rail in silence for a moment, and then Barbossa placed a hand gently on my arm. "Come with me," he said quietly, and I let him lead me to the cabin once more.

Once he had closed the door, I saw how very tired and careworn he looked, and I noticed as he tossed his hat on the table that he was moving a little stiffly, and that his hand involuntarily went to his side.

"What's wrong?" I asked, after watching him wince.

He tried to wave me off, but I had already gone to him and yanked aside the right side of his frockcoat, revealing the dried blood around the hole in his clothes underneath. It looked like he'd been caught in the ribs by a blade, and instantly I was concerned about how deep the wound might be.

"May, its nothin'," he started to protest, but he gave up when he saw the look on my face, and he stopped resisting when I began removing his frock and waistcoat. I made him sit in one of the nearby chairs and then helped him out of his shirt.

He leaned back in the chair, obviously exhausted, and let his head fall back as I examined the gash in his side. It wasn't deep, but it was apparent that it was going to be my turn to stitch a wound of his.

I left him in the chair to fetch what I would need, and he remained there, unmoving when I returned a few minutes later. He apparently had dozed off, and he only stirred when he felt me cleaning the dried blood off the wound. He grunted a little and opened his eyes, watching me without speaking while I worked.

He exhaled a little sharply when I passed the first suture, and after a minute, while I concentrated on repairing the injury, he finally spoke.

"I wish I'd set you ashore back at Montego," he said quietly, from where he had let his head fall back against the chair again.

"Why?" I asked, not sure what he was trying to say.

"You wouldn't have had to see what happened today," he replied. "Ye'd not have had to witness what..."

"What you did?" I asked softly. "Don't you think I know what you're capable of?"

"I hope ye truly don't know," he replied grimly. His words made me feel chilled, and then it occurred to me what he'd been afraid of. He knew that I hadn't actually witnessed how brutal pirating could be, and he must have wanted me to be away from the ship before something like the battle with the _Valiant_ had happened, and I saw anything that might make me change my mind about the way I felt about him.

While I certainly had been naïve about dealing with pirates in a lot of ways, I am not a stupid woman, and although I was thoroughly traumatized by what had happened that day with the _Valiant_, the only thing that seemed to matter to me at that moment was that the man before me was alive, and the fact that he'd destroyed the entire ship and her crew didn't change the way I felt about him.

I have to say that the only person that might have been more surprised than me at that fact, was him when I said so.

I put down the suture materials and stood, then set myself gently in his lap. He let one hand rest lightly on my hip, and glanced at me from where he still had his head resting against the back of the chair.

"It changes nothing," I said, reaching to run my fingers along his face lightly. He gave me the smallest smile, and closed his eyes, obviously enjoying my touch.

We sat like that for a few long minutes, and I finally withdrew my hand and stood up. When he opened his eyes to see where I had gone, I offered my hand to help him stand up, and led him across the cabin to his bed.

I settled into his embrace, lying next to him, and listening once again to the creaking of the _Rogue's_ timbers as I toyed absently with the medallion that laid against the bare skin of his chest, thinking that maybe he'd fallen asleep.

"'Twas me father's," he said softly, still lying next to me with his eyes closed. "It was all he left me when he went piratin', and my mother was left to struggle on her own with a child until I was thirteen."

I said nothing and let him continue, having only heard a little of this story some time before.

"My mother loved him always," he said, "and she waited nearly fourteen years before she'd let herself feel anythin' fer another man. 'Twas a hard and uncertain life for her, waitin' to see if the man she loved would ever return, and it'd not be somethin' I'd ever wish upon someone I know."

I knew then that he was telling me more than the story about his father, and I held onto him more tightly.

"'Tis why ye need to go, May," he said suddenly, speaking very softly. "Anythin' more between us would always be uncertain, and I'll not put you through that."

I propped myself up on my elbow next to him so I could look at him when I spoke. The lighting was dim, but I could see him well enough to tell he was looking back at me. "Your mother made the choices she felt she needed to make, Hector," I said, "and I'd want to make my own choices as well."

I could tell even in the low lighting that he frowned a little. "I'd not ask you to..."

"Is the way you feel that unsure?" I asked, needing him to be completely honest with me.

Barbossa shook his head. "Nay, lass, that be set in stone. Ye can trust me on that," he said, reaching across and letting his fingers trail along my cheek.

I nodded, unable to say anything for a couple of minutes. Finally I laid my head back down on his chest and spoke very softly. "Well, perhaps we should trust in what we have today, and be happy for it," I said as he drew me in tightly. "Tomorrows are always uncertain, aren't they?"

"Aye," he said quietly in reply, "but 'tis part of what makes the possibility of tomorrow seem so grand."

We were both silent for several minutes, and the ship's sounds were lulling me to sleep in his arms, when he finally spoke again, whispering in my hair. "Mayhap there be a possibility of tomorrow, May…someday?"

"Someday?" I asked, half asleep at that point.

"Aye," he whispered to me, "I'll not stay at sea forever."

"No?" I asked, barely able to answer him at that point, as I was nearly overcome with sleep.

"No," he replied, still in a whisper, very hesitantly. "Would ye...wait for me?"

I smiled and nestled in closer against him. "Yes," I whispered back, knowing that he was trusting me to make my own decision at that moment, even though he feared what he might put me through because of it.

"Then I promise ye, I'll return," he whispered solemnly. He paused momentarily and then asked me one last question. "Do ye trust me, Madeline?"

"Aye," was the last thing I said to him before falling asleep in his arms.

--

Morning came, and it was my turn to rise first as Barbossa was still fast asleep, probably exhausted from leading his crew through the terrible battle the day before. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him for a few moments, thinking how much things had changed in a short period of time.

Just over a month ago the man lying next to me had terrified me, and the distinction between right and wrong, good and bad, had been simpler and clearer for me. Now, after spending a month getting to know the complicated individual that Barbossa was, the thing that terrified me the most was the thought of losing him, and the black and white of yesterday had muddled into many different shades of gray for me.

Fitting, I thought, for a doctor of the same name, who had spent her whole life trying to preserve it, only to find herself taking a life to preserve the one that she'd ever most wanted to save.

I got up quietly and left the cabin, going out into the bright Caribbean sun again. It was hard to believe that the ship had been the site of so much carnage the previous day, as clean as it was, sailing along under the bright blue sky. The pirates on deck were oddly subdued, and even Turk, who came to greet me, seemed careworn and less cheerful than usual.

"Mornin', May," he said quietly. "How are yeh today?"

I could tell by the way he was scrutinizing me that he was most concerned with my psychological well -being.

"Fine," I said firmly in reply.

"Yeh sure?" he asked, still watching me carefully.

"Yes."

Turk nodded, understanding that I'd come to grips, at least for the moment, with the fact that I'd chosen the lesser of two evils, given the choice of killing the lieutenant or watching Barbossa be shot down.

We said nothing for a few minutes, and then he spoke again. "He knows what it took fer you to have to do what yeh did, May. He knows there's a piece of yerself that yeh sacrificed in order to save his life…one that yeh'll never get back."

I looked Turk in the eyes. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing him," I said, frankly. "I'd make the same choice a hundred times."

"Have yeh told the peacock that?" Turk asked, smiling just a little as he pried into our business a tiny bit again, but trying to lighten the moment.

I gave him a weak smile. "I've had my say, if that's what you mean,"

"And?" Turk asked, obviously intent on getting more details about the shipboard romance.

"I told him I love his hat," I said, patting Turk on the arm.

"Bugger, May," Turk cursed, "there'll be no livin' with the man if yeh've told him that!"

I laughed just a little. "And what about if I've told him that it's not just his hat I love?"

Turk became more serious at that point, and looked me steadily in the eye. "Then I'd say there'll only be so long that I have to live with him and his friggin' hat," he said, earnestly. " A man would have to be a right daft idiot to pass up a chance to be with a woman as fine as you, May, and Barbossa's one of the smartest blokes I know."

I didn't bother to tell Turk about my conversation with Barbossa from the night before.

Turk rambled on for another minute. "Hector and I have always debated how long we'd stay pirates for. I guess neither of us thought we'd do this forever, but it kinda takes hold of yeh once yer in."

He chuckled a bit to himself. "Barbossa always said he'd give it up if he ever found a woman worth havin' that would have him back. I figured it was just a way fer him to excuse the fact that he's been a rogue fer such a long while as there aren't a lot of women who might find themselves fallin' fer a pirate, and then…" He shrugged.

"And then?" I asked.

"And then you came along, May," Turk said with a wink, "and now, the captain of the _Rogue Wave_ has found himself obsessed with gold of another sort." Turk tugged on my hair a little, meaningfully.

"Obsessed?" I asked, smiling again at his comment.

"Aye," Turk said with a nod, "he's completely smitten."

"And you can tell this from knowing him for so long, I imagine?" I asked.

"Nah," Turk said, giving me another wink, "he told me."

--

**A/N:** For those of you who are curious...so far 35 of 39 of you like Barbossa's hat, and 4 of you voted for not liking it. Caramel candied apples to 35 of you, in that case. ;)

Next chapter will be a bit of a long one as we wrap up the story.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** Thanks to Scourge of the Caspian for such a lovely review! :)

Final tally on Barbossa's hat: 4 No 38 Yes!

Thank you so much to all of you who have been reading faithfully, and for all the lovely and fun reviews and messages! This story has been such fun to write, and you all have made it even more enjoyable with all your kind comments and encouragement! Cheers!

--

**Chapter Thirty**

--

_Turk rambled on for another minute. "Hector and I have always debated how long we'd stay pirates for. I guess neither of us thought we'd do this forever, but it kinda takes hold of yeh once yer in."_

_He chuckled a bit to himself. "Barbossa always said he'd give it up if he ever found a woman worth havin' that would have him back. I figured it was just a way fer him to excuse the fact that he's been a rogue fer such a long while as there aren't a lot of women who might find themselves fallin' fer a pirate, and then…" He shrugged._

"_And then?" I asked._

"_And then you came along, May," Turk said with a wink, "And now, the captain of the Rogue Wave has found himself obsessed with gold of another sort." Turk tugged on my hair a little, meaningfully._

"_Obsessed?" I asked, smiling again at his comment._

"_Aye," Turk said with a nod. "He's completely smitten."_

"_And you can tell this from knowing him for so long, I imagine?" I asked._

"_Nah," Turk said, giving me another wink. "He told me."_

--

I was still standing there speaking with Turk when Barbossa finally appeared, crossing the deck toward us while perching that damned hat on his head. Turk and I shared a look, and I could see Barbossa watch us suspiciously as he neared.

Turk was the first to speak when he made it to where we were. "What kind of feathers are those again?" he asked, eying Barbossa's hat.

"Ostrich," Barbossa replied warily, knowing Turk's question couldn't mean anything good.

"That one of them birds as shoves its head in the sand when it's scared?" Turk asked, already starting to grin.

"Supposedly," Barbossa replied, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at his bo'sun.

Turk sniggered. "Yeah, well, it looks like one of them bloody birds shoved its head up its arse instead, an' perched itself on yer head."

"That might be the most creative insult ye've given me hat yet, Master Turk," Barbossa said, obviously amused by Turk despite himself. "No matter. May likes me hat, even if you don't." He slid his arm lightly about my waist and left it there, not concerned about what Turk or anyone else might think.

Turk smiled mischievously at us. "I'm willin' to bet she likes more'n yer hat," he said with a wink at Barbossa, causing my face to feel very warm after his comment. He immediately took on a look of mock horror. "Where's yer mind, girl?" he asked, teasing me after he'd seen me blush (which of course, had been his intent all along). I only meant there's a lot more to this peacock than jus' his silly hat."

"Aye, a _lot_ more," Barbossa chimed in wickedly, perpetuating the innuendo, and I felt my face get even warmer.

"Well, now, that might be best judged from the lady's perspective," Turk continued mercilessly, giving me a questioning glance.

I couldn't help but laugh, even as I shook my head. "You two are just awful," I scolded, still blushing and unable to keep a straight face.

"Awful?" Turk asked, and then shot an accusing look at Barbossa. "That's not what yeh told me she said about yeh the other night."

Barbossa frowned. "I said nothin' of any sort, and you know it," he shot back. "Don't you have any duties that need tendin' to, Master Turk?"

"I s'pose I do, now," Turk replied sarcastically, taking the hint and heading aft. He made an exaggerated smooching noise, mimicking a kiss as he left, and chuckled to himself as he walked away.

Barbossa sighed in mild exasperation. "Why 'tis that I've put up with him fer all these years, I don't know."

I slid my hand under Barbossa's arm and casually walked with him. "Probably the same reason he's put up with you," I teased.

"Probably," he admitted.

As we neared the bow of the ship, my thoughts turned back to the conversation we'd had the night before, and I grew quiet as I contemplated what future we might possibly have.

"What is it yeh're thinkin' about?" he asked, intruding gently on my thoughts after I'd been silent for several moments.

"The fact that you want me to go," I said quietly.

"Want ye to go?" he repeated. "Want has naught to do with it, May. 'Tis fer certain that what I want, I cannot have."

"What is it that you want, Hector?" I asked him earnestly.

"What I want is you, here, on this ship, in my bed, by my side," he said, risking a glance down at where I stood hanging onto his arm.

I had no reply to such a declaration coming from him.

"But I'll not have you subjected to such a hard and dangerous life, jus' because I be a selfish an' greedy old rogue who really wants to beg ye to stay more'n anythin'. This ship's no place fer a lady, and I'd not be able to stand meself if I ever let anythin' happen to you." He glanced down at me again, and then turned to face me and take me gently by the arms. "You mean too much to me, May."

"I don't want to go," I finally told him, "but I know that you're right." I let him draw me in against him, and embraced him tightly, tucking my head in just under his chin. "I've never met anyone like you, Hector."

"Aye, that's likely true," he replied with charming arrogance, trying to lighten the moment.

I spent the rest of the morning conversing with him freely, enjoying his company and the conversation without intimidation hanging over my head. I had a thousand things I wanted to know about him, and each question I asked about him seemed to amuse him, yet please him as well. I think that he was genuinely happy that I appeared to have such an obvious fascination with his past, and there were few questions that he didn't answer for me. Only occasionally would he seem a bit reluctant to talk about certain subjects, and he'd simply reply, "That be a story fer another time, lass."

He'd made one such comment when I'd asked him about the duel he'd referred to that gave him the prominent scar on his cheek, and I pressed him no further for an answer, content to think that he'd tell me more about it at a later time. He leaned on his elbows on the rail, contemplating the open ocean before us, and I adopted a similar posture next to him, making it a point to let my arm rest against his.

We stood together like that for a long moment before he spoke again. "How be yer leg?"

"Fine," I replied.

He turned and touched the small wound under my chin, where Stoker had cut me sadistically. "This'll be gone shortly," he said, and then he let one finger trace down my throat to the first button on my dress. My heart sped up as his fingers undid it. "Perhaps I'd best check this wound as well," he said softly, eyes fastened on mine, even as his fingers undid the next button, exposing the very top of the healing scratch from the knife that ran down my chest.

I wondered at that moment, if he was contemplating the same thing that I was –that the heart that still beat beneath where he was letting his fingers trace across the curves of my skin that he had exposed, belonged to him, and not just because he'd kept my attacker from silencing it. His gaze came back up to meet mine after traveling to where his fingers were, and he lifted his hand to tip up my chin, not hesitating to press his mouth over mine in a deep, lingering kiss.

Someone pointedly clearing their throat near us alerted us to the fact that we'd been joined near the bow, and I was already smiling before the kiss quite ended.

"I'm glad to see yeh takin' my advice," Turk said, obviously pleased at the way things apparently stood between us. "It's about time yeh lived more fer the moment."

While living for the moment might have been good advice, it was good advice for a short period of time, as suddenly, without warning, without fanfare, that moment came to an end.

The three of us looked off to starboard as the lookout called down, and there, not far in the distance, was land. It soon became obvious by the fact that two ships were anchored there as well, that what we were looking at was a small port of some sort.

I shared a brief look with Barbossa, knowing that this would be what we had determined, so long ago it seemed, to be a suitable place to put me ashore. He reacted quickly, wanted to avoid any unnecessary drama after what we'd already discussed, and he turned to speak to Turk.

"Master Turk, if ye'd be so kind as to ready one of the boats, and have May's things brought on deck?"

Turk nodded, and walked away quickly without saying anything, leaving me alone for the last time with Barbossa. It took only a few minutes for the pirates to have my medical bag, and the small trunk of clothes from Lilith stowed in the longboat, and have it lowered and waiting with Turk and four oarsmen, including Bellamy.

I didn't know what to say.

"'Twill be easy fer you to get back to Port Royal from here," Barbossa said quietly, "and then to wherever 'tis ye decide."

"I'll be in Port Royal," I said softly, knowing already that I wasn't going back home to Wiltshire.

"Would ye go to England, later?" he asked, implying that he meant with him. Of course, there was no way that a pirate as infamous in the Caribbean as Barbossa could ever retire there.

"England would be lovely," I said, trying to smile.

He nodded, and offered me his arm. "Then England it shall be," he said, leading me to the ladder.

It would be the last time I'd ever climb the ladder of the _Rogue Wave_, either departing or boarding.

I sat in the rear of the boat with him, hanging onto his arm desperately, and the few minutes it took us to reach the shore went by in a heartbeat. Suddenly, Turk and Bellamy were setting my things ashore, and Barbossa was helping me out of the boat once again, to step on land.

I knew I should say goodbyes quickly, before too much attention was paid to my companions and the ship in the harbor.

I turned to Michael first.

"Goodbye, May," he said, giving me a smile. "Good luck to you."

He offered me his hand, which I ignored, and I hugged him fiercely, knowing that it wouldn't matter much to Barbossa at that point if I did. "I'll not forget you, Michael," I said as he finally hugged me back. "Thank you for always looking out for me."

He nodded and smiled as I stepped back, and walked away to climb back in the boat.

Turk just about lifted me off the ground in the tremendous one-armed hug he gave me, and despite the fact that he was crushing my ribs, I managed to whisper in his ear. "You'll keep an eye on him for me?" I asked. "You can't miss him in that bloody hat."

Turk let go of me and nodded. "Aye, May, that I will. You look after yerself, darlin'."

I nodded. "Thank you," I said, and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek, and he smiled and walked away to join the others, leaving me standing on the shore alone with Barbossa.

He stepped close to me and reached out to gently lift my chin so that my tear filled eyes met his. "Madeline," he said softly, "ye be a right sharp doctor, and the finest lady I've ever met. Don't ye let any man ever tell you any different."

I nodded, unable to say anything through my tears.

"'Tis time to go," he said very softly, and he drew me into a deep kiss that I wished wouldn't end. When he drew back he spoke briefly. "Do ye trust me?" he asked.

I said the one thing that I knew would tell him what I really wanted, but was unable to say. "The final name is Zeus," I said, knowing he would understand.

He did, and I was rewarded one last time with that roguish half-smile that I had come to love so much. He stepped back and took up my hand, brushing it with his lips even as he backed away. "M'lady," he said softly, meeting my eyes one more time, and then he turned and went.

I stood there watching the pirates row away, Barbossa standing at the front of the longboat, one foot propped against the prow. I remained while the boat was hauled back alongside the _Rogue_, and while the anchor was raised, and while the sails began unfurling, watching the distant silhouette of the plumed hat move across the deck even as the ship began to make way.

I would have turned away at that point, but I found myself laughing as the _Rogue Wave_ suddenly hoisted her colors, and three cannon shots roared through the late afternoon, a final salute from, and no doubt, a final way to show off for my pirate captain.

The ship had been gone for several long minutes before I turned to see several of the townsfolk standing nearby and looking at me in a concerned way.

"Are you alright, Miss?" An older gentleman was glancing from me to the distant ship and then back again.

"I've never been better," I said, reaching to pick up my medical bag.

--

A week later, I opened the door to my little house just down the hill from where the Beckett's lived. The next day I would go to call on Charles to explain to him what had happened the night the _Essex_ had encountered the pirate ship, but for that moment I just wanted to be home.

The boys who had carried my things into the hall for me left after I gave them each a coin for their troubles, and I walked through my little house, thinking how quiet it seemed.

I happened to pass a mirror in the hallway, and the woman who looked back at me startled me with how different she appeared from what I expected. With skin more sun-browned than it had been on shore, and hair bleached lighter and cascading across my shoulders, the woman in the peasant dress from Tortuga bore only a passing resemblance to the tightly laced up doctor who had left six weeks before.

I tried to sleep that night unsuccessfully, in part because I had so much on my mind, and in part because the house was so still. I'd grown accustomed to the sounds of the timbers creaking on the _Rogue_ at night without realizing it.

The next day I arranged for groceries to be sent to my house, as I'd not left anything in the pantry when I'd originally intended to go to England, and I included on the list a bottle of fine rum, and the ingredients I would need to make Coq au vin.

My visit to Charles Beckett was a difficult one, as I was the one that had to deliver the news about his wife's untimely demise on board a pirate ship. Of course, I wanted him to know her fate, but I managed to modify the story enough so that in his mind, Cornelia had accidentally fallen overboard, and was unable to be successfully rescued by the crew.

Charles seemed grateful for the information, although not terribly broken up by the news that he was a widower, and I thanked my lucky stars as I left that I had not had to rely on the man's generosity to determine my fate.

It was only a few days before my first patient arrived, sick with a case of consumption, and I quickly found myself falling back into my old life, caring for the sick and the injured of Port Royal.

I found it hard to believe that three weeks had flown by since I'd last seen the _Rogue Wave_ and her captain, and I wondered frequently if he'd been thinking of me, until the day the box arrived at my clinic.

I had been too busy with patients until well after dinnertime to give the box much thought, and it was only after I had eaten and sat down with a glass of the rum that I remembered the delivery from earlier.

The box wasn't large –about two feet all around, but it was quite heavy, and I decided to open it in the clinic where I'd left it rather than drag it into the house. The only writing on the box indicated my name, and it appeared to be a woman's unfamiliar handwriting.

When I'd managed to pry the top off the box, the inside was packed with cloth surrounding its contents, and a note sat on top, written in the same handwriting as my name on the front.

_Madeline,_

_I've managed to pass this along to you as a favor to our mutual friend, and I hope that it finds you without delay._

_Lilith Davenport._

Lilith and I only had one mutual friend, and I quickly pulled out the cloth that was cushioning the contents of the box, anxious to see what he had sent. I struggled to lift an ornate metal chest out of the box, and set in on my exam table to open it.

Two treasures lay inside, the first, a large amount of gold coin that filled the interior nearly to the top, and the second, a letter in the familiar angular handwriting of Hector Barbossa.

I quickly opened the letter, anxious for some word of how he fared, and two lines into it went back to the beginning to read it over. It was written in flawless King's English, but I could hear his familiar West Country accent in my mind as I read it again, knowing how it would sound if he were there to read it to me.

_Dearest Madeline,_

_My hope is that this letter finds you quickly, and that ye be safe and well in Port Royal. _

_I wished to get word to you sharply about the fate of the Rogue Wave, before ye heard aught out of other sources._

_Our voyage together on the Rogue, much to my great consternation, was to be her last, and I find meself in search of a ship an' a crew at present. _

_To speak plainly, the Rogue went out in spectacular fashion, blown up by not by His Majesty's finest, but some of me own during festivities not far out of Tortuga, and while ye may surmise 'twas the end of most of her crew, I'll tell ye true that Masters Bellamy, Turk and Harlow be safe, as they were off the ship at the time._

_As I've found meself with a bit of time on my hands, and a lovely doctor much on my mind, I wanted to tell you that I have not forgotten our accord._

_Trust that I'll not be forgettin' it any time soon, lass._

_Michael Bellamy has decided to head west to the new colonies, and Thomas Harlow has found himself a bride here in Tortuga, of all places._

_Master Turk, the great bloody ox, has decided that he's had yet enough close calls fer his likin' and he plans to stay here as well._

_As fer me, I have yet another voyage or two left before I hang up me hat, and by the time ye put the gold to good use, you should plan on makin' an important decision._

_What'll it be – Padstow or Wiltshire, M'lady? Whatever be yer heart's content, be my pleasure, as long as ye accompany me whither we roam._

_The gold be your share from the final voyage of the Rogue Wave –one thirtieth of the plunder she carried. I knew ye'd not accept it when ye left, and fret about it bein' stolen, but look at it this way, May. 'Twould be put to a better use buildin' a hospital than bein' spent by pirates on the things that pirates spend gold on._

_If yeh're not inclined to spend it outright, consider it a loan, and ye can repay me later in which ever manner ye deem most appropriate, keepin' in mind it be a great deal of money. _

_I must get this to Lily, who has agreed to deliver it for me, as I have been fortunate enough to hear of a venture soon to leave Tortuga. I have signed onto a ship called the Black Pearl, currently captained by one Jack Sparrow, who ye've heard of before._

_I don't expect that to last fer long._

_Know that ye be the last thought I have before goin' aboard, and trust that ye'll be in my thoughts every day that I sail on the Black Pearl, fer however long this voyage lasts._

_Yours, always_

_Hector Barbossa_

_Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea_

And suddenly there he was in writing, showing off again at the last, and I found myself laughing at all the arrogant charm he'd managed to convey in the letter, until it became apparent that tears were no longer streaming down my face from laughter.

**--**

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**Epilogue**

I stood in the hallway, outside the room that the meeting would be held in, a week later, pacing nervously as I waited. I was about to go before the magistrates and the governor himself again, and tell them that I was building the hospital I wanted.

Not that there was much they could do about it at that point. I'd purchased the land on the bluff outright, and had the funds in hand to pay for the building, thanks to the share of the gold that Barbossa had sent me.

While the officials of the town, as well as some of the bankers, were puzzled as to where I'd managed to come up with such a large sum so quickly, I merely informed them that my backer wished to remain anonymous, and they soon quit pestering me for details.

Although I knew that it was unlikely that anything would stand in the way of the new facility, I wanted to make sure that I dotted all my _I's_ and crossed all my _T's_ before we broke ground, and that would include officially making the presentation I was waiting to give to the governor, the magistrates, and the likes of Charles Beckett, and other men of influence in the Jamaican capitol.

I continued to pace in the hallway, waiting for them to call me, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the end of the hallway again.

I was wearing a new dress that I had bought upon returning to Port Royal, one much more conservative than, but the same shade of blue as the daring dress I'd worn for Barbossa into Tortuga that night, weeks ago.

I laughed at my own suntanned reflection a bit, as I admitted to myself there, that I had in fact, although I'd not admitted it to myself at the time, worn the dress for him. Something he likely knew before I did, the arrogant peacock, and it was probably one of the reasons he'd flirted so shamelessly with me that night.

Charles Beckett was the one that came to let me know the assembly was ready for me, and he interrupted my thoughts of being held in the arms of the pirate captain, as he opened the door.

"They're ready for you, Miss Gray," he said coolly.

I knew that he wasn't pleased about the fact that I'd purchased the land on top of the cliff, and had been considering building a new, larger home on the spot until I'd managed to plunk down hard cash and commandeer the site.

Beckett would be the only real opposition I'd be likely to face that night, but if he thought he was going to have an easy time of intimidating me or getting me to back down, he was sadly mistaken.

I knew as I turned away from the mirror at the end of the hall and walked toward him, that he faced a formidable opponent in the matter, and he didn't stand a chance of besting the woman who had earned the title of Ship's Doctor to the _Rogue Wave_.

While I might not have felt that way weeks before when I left Port Royal, defeated and ready to give up my dream, I knew that the ordeal I had gone through on the pirate ship had done just what Barbossa had said was all I needed.

I'd been picked up and dusted off, and I was ready to accomplish something fine, indeed.

**--**

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**Final Author's Note:**

So, perhaps now, if I've done my job as a storyteller, the next time you all watch _Curse of the Black Pearl,_ you'll stop to wonder if there could have been love in Hector Barbossa's past.

When Elizabeth is first brought on board, and finds Barbossa standing alone on the quarterdeck, had he just been contemplating the fact that he was devastating the very town that Madeline lives in out of desperation to recover the last coin? Had he been wondering where she was that night?

When he tells Elizabeth, in a deleted scene, that the wine colored dress suits her, and then replies, "Now, none of that," to her query about the fate of the dress's previous owner, could it be that he refers to Cornelia Beckett? Madeline mentions a wine colored dress in Cornelia's trunk several times in the story.

When Barbossa becomes impassioned about what he's lost due to the curse, and speaks of not being able to feel the warmth of a woman's flesh, does he speak of a specific woman? Does he lament the fact, that like the song Michael Bellamy sings that night, he and May have but one passionate night together before he falls under the curse?

When he strikes Elizabeth in the cave at Isla de Muerta, perhaps it is only the second time he's struck a woman, both for the same reason - that he sees his final chance at being with Madeline being torn from his grasp, and he reacts out of helpless anger and frustration.

And finally, after searching for all of the Aztec gold, being shot, killed, and brought back by Tia Dalma, is there any chance that a lady doctor still waits for her charming rogue after more than ten years?

In the universe of Pirates of the Caribbean, it is not an unheard of thing for a pirate to wait a decade for the man she loves to return. ;)

Keep in mind there's no rule that says completed stories can't be reviewed. If you've enjoyed the story, feel free to drop me a comment or two and let me know! :) Cheers!


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